Donut Poisoning

Willow had been talking about dumpster diving with Feonix for a couple of days leading up to the Tarrytown NY craft fair and he was excited.  There was this slightly odd moment of role reversal in which I had blacked out and sometime after midnight Willow woke me and said “Are you ready to go dumpster diving now?”  And while some part of my exhausted body wanted to decline, instead I was propelled by my desire to be a yes for my son. We jumped in the van and headed to White Plains where a Dunkin Donuts of known riches was to be found.

We pull in realize that we have neglected flashlights and Feonix uses her phones app to light the way.  And we have donuts.  The world is a better place and Willow is pleased.  Later we would get a flashlight app for my phone, but even with the light the Trader Joes dumpster was being staffed way late in the night (actually crazy early in the morning) and the Whole Foods compacter revealed nothing that could be salvaged.  As my son snuck from the security cameras in the parking lot I wondered about this aspect of his home schooling.

It is one of my favorite annual rituals, Feonix and Willow and Corb and Hawina and I doing the Tarrytown fair.  In part because Feonix always has the new cool thing or three for us to experience.  This time it was Bee and PuppyCat.  Which has an inspired scene where Bee is in a temp agency and the cruel recruiter turns away from her to take a phone call.  When he turns back his bowl of sweets is emptied and Bee says “You took too long.  Now your Candy’s gone. That’s what happened. Kapow.” and she disappears thru the door.

Bee does not wait

This was one of our regular chants as we took the long drive down the New Jersey Turnpike after the fair.  I took a five hour energy drink, Feonix was running her normal night owl energy and Willow was doing the sugar rush connected with low level donut poisoning.  We all sang loudly and (at least myself) off key to Mackelmore’s Can’t Hold US on the radio at absurd o’clock somewhere outside Philly.

We arrive at the Keep late, but Willow and I are the last to go to bed.  It may well qualify me again for the cover of Negligent Parenting Magazine, but I would not have it another way.

Willow recovering from donut poisoning at the Keep

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