Little White Lie

I lied to my 5 year old this morning. She asked for some milk with her frosted flakes and I told her we were all out. I felt that we really didn't have enough to make a "complete breakfast" of her dry cereal. So I held out on my kindergartener.

Oh, there was about a quarter cup of leftover milk that I sparingly saved last night. She had asked to use it to dunk her cookie in, and I warned her that there would not be enough left for her cereal this morning, but she insisted. Of course instead of finishing it, she left most of it to be added to the 2 pints of milk that I usually toss down the sink every week. Thinking myself rather crafty, I extracted the tiny bits of cookie with a perforated toddler spoon, wrapped that cup tightly in cling plastic and set it in the fridge to be used in the morning.

My five year old refused breakfast at first and only later asked me for the frosted flakes with milk. Had I combined the cookie milk with the annoyingly small amount I had left barely covering the bottom of the gallon milk jug, it probably would have been enough for her cereal. But to be honest, I considered the cookie milk mine after she abandoned it on the kitchen table last night. Finder's keeper's. I'm man enough to admit that I rescued that milk for the sole purpose of cutting my morning coffee and never gave my poor girl a second thought. I used it before she ever got a chance to ask for it this morning. That left the sheer layer of milk in the gallon jug which I lied about, and used for my second cup. More milk would arrive later.

The milk's really just a vehicle for the sugar frosting anyway. It's secondary to her cereal experience. But I absolutely hate black coffee. My need simply superceded hers. Without my coffee I cannot get within spitting distance of my children's energy level and successfully care for them on a rainy weekend morning. So with love in my heart, I sipped my mug of lies while my girls played with play dough on the kitchen table, snacking on dry frosted flakes.