Rock In Roll

Asher LOVES cinnamon rolls.

He will ask for them almost daily. And daily he will ask for them multiple times.

If we run out of cinnamon rolls, it can be a very stressful event. Last Sunday I had to drive to the grocery store with bad hair, without my teeth brushed, with the child still in pajamas to retreive said breakfast items.

Usually I just whip up the ones that you simply pop in the oven and drizzle with icing, all from a tiny paper tube. Asher thinks they are divine.

Today we had a late breakfast at one of our favorite local restaurants. I picked out a plump, homemade cinnamon roll for Asher from their bakery case, and he immediately began scarfing it down.

About two-thirds of the way through, he started slowing down. It appeared there was something bothering him, when he even went as far as practically gagging. I thought maybe he had put too much in his mouth, so, as moms sometimes have to hold gross things in our hands, I helped him remove some of the offending cinnamon roll. There was still something bothering him, even as he was spitting out the pieces of pastry.

"What's the matter, baby? What's wrong?" I asked.

He pointed to the roof of his mouth, and let me fish around inside with my finger. "There's a rock in my mouth," he said. "There's a rock in my cinnamon roll."

There was no rock in my baby's roll, however, he just wasn't used to the delicious goodness of a REAL, homemade cinnamon roll, complete with sugary goodness, rather than faux icing from a plastic tube.

Rock in roll, Asher. Rock in roll...