I took the kids to Arctic Circle the other day for lunch. On the drive home, I was telling Abe (who loves a good fried corn dog) that while generally speaking I have very little interest in a corn dog, while I was pregnant with Daisy, I would drive to Arctic Circle to get a corn dog pretty much every week.
“I wish I got cool cravings,” he said. Then, “Wait. I guess I do. I mean if I go for like a whole month with out soda, I get all depressed and it’s like the only thing I want.”
We’ve discussed addictions before, so I burst out with a laugh, “You ‘get all depressed’? Abe, that makes you sound like you’re totally addicted! That’s it, we can’t buy you soda ever again.”
“Don’t say that!” He protested, “Then I’d just have to steal some!”
And there you have it. We may as well have been talking about prescription drugs. My little soda addict. Lovely.