Misplaced Expectations

The other day, I took my son to get his haircut for the first time.

Prior to leaving, my wife mentioned that he might be tired and cranky, as his haircut would conflict with his usual nap time.

"Honey, I don't play that," I sanctimoniously stated. " Sleepy or not, I am the law. He WILL behave."

She looked at me with true pity.

I gave myself a few minutes to allow my puffed-out chest to deflate, and my son and I departed for the barbershop.

My plan was simple. I did what every dad does when faced with a potential discipline problem. I offered a bribe.

"Hey X... If you behave, and sit in the chair like a big boy, Daddy'll get you a donut!"

His eyes lit up. "Donuts?" (His automatic use of the plural was admirable).

"Yep... donuts! Daddy loves you."

With the bribe in place, as expected, the event went very well. My son acted in exemplary fashion, and made me proud.

For all but the last two minutes, anyway.

Not one to hold grudge, I decided to get him his donut. After running some errands, I fired up my BlackBerry TeleNav software and GPS puck and searched for "donuts." I was pleased to find out that there was a heretofore undiscovered Krispy Kreme location not far from where we lived. Every other "real" donut place was a significant distance away.

You see, not any donut shop would do for me... I mean, my son. Top of the line only. No gas stations; no grocery stores. Only KK or DD would do.

We drove with glee. The location seemed weird... it was in an industrial area, but we were unperturbed. I smiled with relief when I saw the small sign and vehicles.

My son was wide-eyed in wondrous amazement. "Donut trucks," he whispered in awe.

However, something just didn't feel right. There weren't any people with actual confectionaries. No workers. No drive-thru. No cops. And, unless they were cultivating the flour they used in the production process on-site, the humongous warehouse was serious overkill.

The security guard threw me for a loop. Who was making these donuts? What was in them? Was Willy Wonka on the loose in Charlotte?

I walked up to the security guard and asked where I could purchase donuts. He looked confused.

"We don't sell donuts. Not to individuals."

My son and I were dejected. We had driven to a bulk distributor.

Half an hour later, we were eating donuts from a grocery store. And my son couldn't be happier.

Sometimes, simple love is all it takes.

Picture courtesy of CharlieCLC via Wikimedia Commons.

Sent via BlackBerryPraise God

Misplaced Expectations