He's Got Your Decaf

Ian has a bad habit.

He LOVES Starbuck's petite vanilla scones. It started innocently enough. When we lived on San Miguel the nearest coffee was at a Starbuck's just 3 blocks from our house. When he was newborn I would walk there in the morning and sit enjoying a decaf beverage until just before time to feed him. Then we'd race home sometimes covering the last block with  a screaming child clutched in one hand pushing the stroller in the other.

When he was old enough to eat real food I bought him a vanilla scone because it was, well, petite. That is also when my friend Kathy introduced me to the Cinnamon Dulce Latte. I made my decaf, sugar free, soy, no whip. And was hooked.

You might recall this.

When we moved in May we said goodbye to our Starbucks and the weekly trip there.

So now the nearest Starbucks is about 10 blocks away. Along the path we pass Old Soul @ the Weatherstone, a lovely local coffee house and Peet's. The first time I took Ian to Old Soul he shouted, "this is a different Starbucks." And I withered into the corner as all of the local supporting midtown dwellers gazed in astonishment that my son would know such foul language. At Peet's the only option he would eat was a big gooey browny thing so covered in sugar we would need to peel him from the ceiling in order to leave.

So 10 blocks we go. All for the petite vanilla scone. Every Friday morning as our we've made it this far treat Shea goes there and brings us a treat before he heads off to work. And well...we repeat the process on Saturday because, it's Saturday! (we will not add up the total of those two trips...I'm in denial."

Today was a school day. A school day after a home day is always pretty tough. Ian doesn't want to go. The morning is hectic. I always need to find clothes and copies and random pieces of work that I've forgotten because I too had a home day with a 3 year old! Ian woke up in a good mood, looked at Shea and said, " I want scones."  It was not Friday.

Dad is a push over.

Shea comes into the bathroom where I'm getting ready and says, "I'm going to Starbucks. Ian really wants it." I think I did say, "you don't have to give into him," but Shea was already out the door.

I dress (while also attending to about 50 things that Ian really "needs" me to do for him while dad makes the 10 minute trip to Starbucks)

We are running late. We all know this. Ian has underwear on. He is happy. And working every angle he can to avoid a school day. I sit at my computer to grab the powerpoint I need for work and count copies before I put them in my cart for work.

Ian hears the door open and runs to greet the petite vanilla scone "maker man." And I hear Ian yell from the other room. "He's got your decaf mom!"

We're doomed!