dessert as art

dessert as art

S

chool’s almost out.

I don’t need a calendar to tell me so, either. It’s in the apathy regarding such basic tasks as putting one’s clothes on in the morning (“I’ll get dressed later,” I am told, dismissively, as late as 8 a.m.), the vocal opposition to homework (“This is the worst part of the day!”)—the overall reluctance to do anything, really, that has me wondering if we’re going to be able to do very much successfully at all for the 20 days remaining.

Grades are dropping. Attitudes are atrocious. Morale is low. It’s a mess.

How, then, to push through to the third week of May? What exhortations might be most effective in coaxing these Three to draw upon their reserves, if they must, but to finish the school year out in the same strong way in which they entered into it?

Ice cream.

Sometimes less is more; at others, more is more. It is at the end of the school year when I feel both of these philosophies enjoy equal

merit. For example, it may be nearly over, but that means nothing to children. This is why less school is better, even when there are a mere four weeks left. That’s why I’ll be checking mine out early and bringing them into class late twice in the next four weekdays.

They have legitimate things going on, alright, but I’m sure that if I’d puzzled and twisted things around I could have scheduled events in such a way that there would have been minimal conflict with school but, honestly, why? It makes them so happy even to miss 20 minutes here or there, like they’re really being given a break. It’s a little sad, frankly, and it kind of seems like the least I can do for them when they’re so pathetic and all.

And as for more being more, that’s where the ice cream comes in. I don’t know where you come down on the subject of dessert—if you think it needs to be eaten after dinner or before, or if your children are among those for whom refined sugar is still a rarity. Personally, dessert can’t happen early or often enough for my children in these last days of school. This is why, following completion of the event that they will be missing school for next week, I will be taking The Three for ice cream at 10:15 in the morning before I check them back in.

Maybe it’s wrong, to banana-split them and take them back to math class, but I maintain that more is more has its place, too. These long, last days of school seem to be place to stop and break things up with the sweet respite of excess, the bright hope of better things that comes with the occasional indulgence.

Pass the whipped cream.