Donuts Will Be The Death Of Me … I Just Know It

Before we had kids, my husband and I would sleep late on Saturday mornings. We're talking super late, like we wouldn't get up until around 8:00 in the morning.

(Yep. We were wild and crazy in our youth.)

Sleeping in until eight changed when we had our first child. Sleeping in became a thing of the past as she would awaken each day at six. I always thought that would change as our daughter got older. I thought she'd sleep until at least eight in the morning, especially as a teenager. Teenagers sleep a lot, right?

Ok, technically that is true. She does like to sleep late. But it's her activities that cause us to get up bright and early. And in Saturday's case, we were up and out the door before the sun came up.

That's right. Six o'clock in the morning. Like before dawn. We hit the road at 6:00 a.m. for her to compete with her team in a volleyball tournament. Know who else is on the road at six in the morning? No one. We didn't pass another car for miles.

Know why? Other people are not up and mobile at that ridiculous hour on a Saturday morning.

Know what businesses are open at six a.m.? Donut shops.

This bit of knowledge does little to excite me because it's a well-documented fact that I don't like donuts before three in the afternoon. Donuts in the morning make me physically ill ('tis grody). I was content to just sail on by the donut place without giving it a second thought.

Unfortunately for me I was traveling with my husband and my daughter, both of whom believe that an open donut shop is an open invitation to stop in for a snack (or a second breakfast as was the case on Saturday). They are donut driven people.

I would have been fine if my husband, who was driving, had simply seen the donut shop and pulled into a parking space like a normal human. That simple act would not have bothered me at all. However, his donut-dar (cousin to a radar) was on the fritz that early in the morning because he didn't realize it was an open donut shop until two blocks later, at which point he slammed on the brakes and whipped the steering wheel around to complete an illegal U-turn.

We may or may not have been on the sidewalk for part of our U-turn.

And I believe the tires actually smoked a bit.

The things that man will do for a fresh donut.

He slid into an empty parking space with ease, yelling "Woo hoo! Fresh donuts!" while I clung to the door handle with both hands, all the while stomping my right foot down on an imaginary brake pedal. He slammed the car into Park and was out the door before I released my grip on the door handle. I turned around to see if my daughter was alright only to discover that she, too, had catapulted out of the car and was joining her dad in racing into the donut shop.

I yelled out the window "Hey! Do you want me to go in with you?"

My husband turned towards me, looked annoyed and replied with a very terse "NO!"

They hurriedly entered the donut shop without me.

Well huh. I sat in the parked car (tires still smoking) quietly contemplating what had just happened. One moment we were merrily bouncing along the highway to a volleyball tourney, the next minute I'm alone in the car with the stench of burned rubber and a death grip on the door handle.

Who knows how much time passed while I sat alone in the car. It could have been days. I slowly became aware of my surroundings. The sun was starting to rise and the sky was becoming lighter. The wind had picked up a bit. The "open" sign on the donut shop flickered between "OPEN" and "OFFEND" instead of "OPEN" and "CLOSED".

Eventually, my husband and daughter returned with massive grins on their faces and a box filled with donuts. An enormous box of donuts. For the two of them to eat by themselves. Because I don't like donuts in the morning.

Oh my husband and daughter claimed that they "bought one for me", which means they felt slightly guilty about almost killing me by driving recklessly, refusing to allow me to accompany them into the donut store, and purchasing twelve donuts to split between the two of them, so they last minute threw a chocolate cake donut in the box "for me".

I indignantly said, "I never should have trusted you two alone in a donut store."

My husband wasn't the least bit apologetic when he said, "Nope, you really shouldn't have. That was a dumb thing to do. Pass me a cream-filled, would you?"

Donuts will be the death of me one day. I just know it.


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