She was gulping down mango sorbet and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she was glancing at me occasionally to see if I would intervene. It was certainly tempting as lunch hour was approaching, but I bit my lip.
Her – “Dadda (she sometimes calls me that), how come you’re not getting mad at me for eating so much sugar.”
Me – “I’m giving you the freedom to make a wise decision for your body.”
Her – “I will.”
And, with that, she gulped more down, closed it, walked to the fridge, opened it again thinking I wasn’t looking and got in one last bite.
I understand.
