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Sometimes a hyped-up, Claritin-filled preschooler’s angst is funny. This was one of those times.

Dave doesn’t really have a sweet tooth, but he seems to love those mini chocolate-covered donuts. He’s passed this proclivity along to our boys, so a bag of donuts doesn’t last long in this house.

After dinner, he gave each boy one donut. Henry ate his and didn’t complain that it wasn’t enough. Rhys…well, Rhys went into full-on meltdown mode and cried and screamed “I WANT TWO DONUTS!” for at least 20 minutes. I looked at my mom and asked “Do you think he’d get madder if I split his donut in half and said ‘Look! Now you have two!?’ We both agreed this would just exacerbate the fit. We also felt kind of sorry for him because he’d been dead asleep on the couch and we woke him up for dinner. I wonder if that’s how Dave would act without a filter, first thing in the morning? You just don’t talk to him because no matter what he claims, he is, as Henry says, a grouchy bear for a couple of hours after he gets up.

I wasn’t going to give Rhys a second donut, even if he screamed hard enough to burst his carotid artery so I decided I’d try my “chop it in half, volia!” plan. It worked! For about a minute.

So now I’m on Rhys’ list. Henry came to me after the incident and said, “Rhys is mad at you.” I wanted to say “Who cares? All this over a donut?” but instead I had to stifle a laugh. He’s been mad at me before and he always gets over it within a half-hour. I think the time I tricked him into eating broccoli took a bit longer to smooth over. It should have, since this was actually something delicious AND he got “two” out of the deal. I didn’t even get one.

See, homeschool is everywhere, Rhys has learned he doesn’t like fractions.