A snow cone's chance?

Will was happy to pose with Mrs. Crystal and Mrs. Renee while I took this picture. The other kids wanted to be in the picture, too. I love the smile on Will's face in the one with all the other kids. . .

You know that music in movies that is played to indicate impending doom? Dum-da-dum-dum. . . That is what I heard the orchestra playing as we were on the way home and Will excitedly told me about his last day of school today. No, no, no, I wasn't worried about the books or songs, or even the fingerpainting. What worried me was that he was talking non-stop:" we-had-snowy-snow-cones-today-mama-I-want-to-get-a-snowcone-machine-for-our-house-and-syrup-eeek-lots-of-syrup-since-it-is-so-tasty-the-snow-cones-look-like-snow-balls-and-then-we-have-to-get-snow-cone-cups-that-are-round-on-the-top-but-if-you-turn-it-upside-down-it-is-pointy-like-a-triangle-I-had-red-syrup-that-tasted-like-cherry-but-other-kids-got-green-blue-or-purple-and-they-said-those-were-yummy-too-can-we-get-a-snow-cone-machine-and-syrup-mama-huh?" I started hyperventilating desparately trying to take in enough oxygen to supply Will some if he passed out from talking, but he was fine. I, on the other hand, grasped the steering wheel tight enough that the veins on my knuckles stood out. I took deep breaths and finally convinced myself it would probably be okay in the end.

When was it decided that sugar is the best way to celebrate and reward preschoolers? I seem to remember graham crackers and popcorn being the big treats when I was that age. Now, I find out he had a snow-cone. I know, I know, a little sugar isn't that bad. But I leave the school feeling a little guilty. When he has had a good day, he gets to pick a prize from the teachers' box. He will hold up a piece of gum and I quietly suggest he choose something else. "But I want the gum, Mama." "Will, you may take the gum, but you won't get to chew it until you turn five and that's a long time." "Fine, I'll take the lollipop." The lollipop will be added to the pumpkin in the pantry. That is where his trick-or-treat/Christmas/Valentine/Easter/school candy stays and when he gets dessert, he sometimes picks from the pumpkin. There is no way I will let him have it on the way home. I have been nice in the past or stopped for a smoothie in the afternoon, and there is something about the sugar that turns him scary. Sure enough, we got home and he started kicking walls, smacking his siblings, slamming doors, screaming, and crying when he was . . .um, disciplined. I am a control freak, I guess. I want complete control of his sugar intake if I am going to be the one to have to deal with the consequences.

Later, Will asked again, "Can we please get a snowcone machine?" I answered that I didn't know, but what I really meant was "It is as unlikely as a snowcone in H-E-double hockey sticks," but I knew that comment would require more of an explanation that I was in the mood to give.