Would you rather have balloons or cookies?

So, as I mentioned, Bug graduated from preschool. We had a total of 7 adults and 1 two-year-old cheering for Bug, including my father. We were a sizeable crowd.

There were three graduating classes, and each class did a little song and dance routine and then got their diplomas. Bug’s class was first, and of course she was the star of the show. Waving onstage to anyone brave enough to make eye contact with her. Bug yelling to me from the stage during the handing out of diplomas: “Mom! Do you see how those people brought balloons? You need to get me some, too! OK, Mom? MOM!”

Yes, Sweetheart. Please be quiet now.

But she must get her boldness from my father. He noticed that the family in the row in front of us all had packages of decorated sugar cookies. “Where’d they get those cookies?” he wondered.

I don’t know, Dad. Maybe they’re passing them out outside or something.

My dad didn’t accept that answer, so he tapped the elderly lady in front of him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, where did you get those cookies?”

“I made them,” the woman answered proudly. “My grandson is graduating, so I made packages of cookies for everyone in the family.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” my dad said. “Can I have a package?”

And then time froze for a minute. I didn’t hear the kids laughing, or the parents cheering, or teacher calling out the names of graduating 5-year-olds. I only heard my father ask this complete stranger for a package of cookies, cookies iced with the phrase “Jeffrey 2011.” No one in my family has that name. The grandma stared at me with a look that said, “Do you know this crazy man?”

I gave her a look back that said, “Sorry, I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”

But the woman was polite and reluctantly handed over a package of cookies, mumbling something about how she supposed her husband didn’t need any.

When Bug came back over to us after the graduation, my father gave her the cookies. “Look what I got you, Bug! Cookies! I was going to get you balloons, but your Mama said she was going to get them.”

All eyes turned to me, sans balloons.

“Mommy! Did you get me balloons? Where are they? You said you would get me balloons, Mommy! Mommy!”

Sigh. I need a vacation.