The audacity of secure children.

The other day, I made French Toast for the boys for breakfast just the way they like it: butter, jelly, and a layer of powdered sugar to top it all off.

When I was back in the kitchen for a moment, Spencer exclaimed from the living room, “Ethan spilled his powdered sugar everywhere!” Rushing to the scene of the incompetence, I discovered the white plague on the table and on the carpet, evidence that Ethan had done something catastrophically clumsy, since I had been the one to put the plate safely on the table in the first place. After scolding him mildly for making a mess, I went to get the vacuum cleaner and a wet paper towel, irritated.

While I was doing this, I suddenly heard Ethan say, “Daddy, I need more powdered sugar for my French Toast.” The audacity of this request even while I was still occupied in cleaning up his mess stunned me. But then I realized what it really meant. That’s how generous he believes his daddy is. And sure enough, after I was done cleaning it up, I got him some more. French Toast needs powdered sugar, you know.