I'm racing to write this memory down, it's only a couple days old and already one of my favorite and most repeated stories. I was kinda joking when I asked if you wanted to be in the 4th of July Pie Eating contest this year, but I was thrilled to see you thrilled with the idea. I knew it would be flat out hysterical, but had no idea it would be heart-rending as well.
Cow Bell rings and face in you go. Licking your way to the aluminum beneath all that chocolate cream.
Shouts and Cheers fly from my mouth and erupt behind me too as all the parents and spectators urge each of you on to more sugar and faster. This is a new stance for us to take and we delight in it. Soon though, it is over. You do not realize this. In fact, you've just begun to get serious about this pie.
Until finally I am able to wrangle enough of your attention back and tell you that the race is over. At which point, you look up with a face frosted by chocolate and painted with glee to ask...
"Am I the winner?!"
And I am slain.
Wrestling between the truth and a lie I land on the truth,
"No, honey, you didn't win."
--but completely cave as the heartbreak hits you and the tears well, offering up a softer truth on top --
"But you were definitely the fastest 3 year old today!"
Uncertain blue eyes study me.
Deciding.
Smile returns, all the way up to your dented cheek.
"Yep! I'm the winner!"
Wrong again.
I am.
Love,
mom
