The muffin was in a vulnerable position, in a crumbly mess on the edge of the counter.
Little Legs had just reduced the tasty baked good to bits and pieces and pushed it aside to try and access the Cheerio’s in my bowl. To be more specific, it was Honey-Nut Cheerio’s: a cereal of delicious compromise between the normal Cheerio flavor of cardboard and a straight spoonful of refined sugar.
“No, Little Legs,” I said firmly.
“Yes, Mama,” he replied his sticky hand extended towards me.
His confident tone indicated that it was only a matter of time before my cereal became his cereal and I was left with nothing. I suppose there was the muffin crumb pile that I could eat for nourishment.
Obviously, this was the time to strike for any mangy mutt that happened to be passing through Crumb Ally. Coco, our insatiable puppy-dog, took to her hindlegs to briefly rest against the counter with her front paws long enough to take the entire muffin heap into her mouth and gulp it down into her bottomless pit.
Little Legs turned back as a black flash retreated to the ground and into the next room, happily licking her lips. He screwed his face up in disbelief as tears welled in his eyes.
“My muffin,” he wailed.
It was suddenly the only thing he wanted in the entire world, and it was impossibly gone.
“Get new one, get new one,” he chanted.
This was also what he said when our fish died.
“Sometimes, we can’t replace things that are gone,” I gently explained.
“Get new one, get new one,” he continued.
Of course, this teachable moment would have been more impactful if there were not another three muffins across the counter, ready and waiting for consumption. Still, I held the line and refused with a NO in all caps which led to another meltdown.
And I wondered if I should just give the mouse his muffin.