This morning I was craving donuts. Okay, maybe it started Saturday night. But anyhow, I thought it would be a perfect morning to take a little run to Brooklyn and try Peter Pan Bakery's selection of glazed goodness. I'd heard wonderful things about this place, and I wasn't disappointed. We made it there in less than 15 minutes, found parking and I had a fresh dozen after only a brief wait in line. Elisa grabbed hers first (she couldn't wait to get back in the car) and we sped off to our local park. It didn't take long to find some friends to share with and before you know it, the box was suspiciously empty. After that we said goodbye to Papa who had to work in the afternoon. We stayed and played a little longer and then walked home dropping off Leonardo and Myla first. Sometimes this helps get us that much closer to home without too much effort. But after their 10 minute gigglefest and "dino dancing" my girl was not happy to part. Nothing made her happy in fact. Maybe it was the sugar crash? I don't know, but the next 30 minutes were torture. We inched home with Elisa complaining and crying, stopping and sitting on nearly every block. I tried to cajole her, calm her and then command her. Nothing was working. I was losing it. By the time we finally made it through the door she was sobbing, Carolina was waking with hunger and the screams only got worse. Ugh. How did the day take such a turn? On film this was a perfect Sunday morning. But in reality it felt like I got no credit for the awesomely inspired donut run. Oh well, I suppose that's life. Some day Elisa will beg me to take her back and I'll have to think about it. Maybe next time I just sit in the car alone and eat them. Yeah, that sounds good.
