When the Whim Becomes Expected

Dearest Rachel –

These days, when I head home from the men’s Bible study each week, it seems like I can’t help but stop by the ‘other’ smoothie place on my way. Not for myself, mind you, although I don’t have the aversion to them I used to think I had. No, I stop by there to pick up a ‘usual’ for Daniel.

To be fair, this isn’t his real usual; that comes from the other smoothie place, an outlet of which exists on the other side of the dual-sided strip mall that’s nearly within sight of church, and more or less on the way home. But since there’s also one of those places in “the triangle,” and Daniel will visit that outlet himself (as well as the sub shop a few doors down) on a weekly basis for lunch while I’m across town, I figure that I shouldn’t get in the way of his own habits, especially if they lead to him getting out of the house of his own volition. Besides, any contribution I make for him ought to be something a little out of his way.

Bear in mind, he doesn’t ask me to pick these things up, but he doesn’t have to; this has become as much of a habit as anything else in my Saturday morning at this point. So if I were to skip a week, and come home without it, he probably wouldn’t mind all that much. He would, however, most likely notice its absence, and ask me as to why I didn’t bring one home like I usually do. Or not; when I get home, he’s often just getting up in the morning, and barely in a position to notice anything. So maybe I’m overestimating the likelihood that he’s starting to feel entitled to my bringing this home for him every week.

Still, it wouldn’t be the first such Saturday morning habit to grow out of a whim and virtually turn into an entitlement of sorts. You’ll remember how, back in the day, I would feel the need on a regular basis to get to the office on Saturday mornings, to catch up on work that couldn’t be completed during the work week but still had deadline pressures that needed to be addressed. Since I would wake up as early as I do even now, I could get in several hours of such tasks done and be home before either of you were awake. At some point, I decided to stop in at McDonald’s on the route home and grab breakfast – usually calling you first, both to let you know that I was on my way home as well as to ask if and what specifically you wanted from there.

However, it eventually got to the point where I was doing this so regularly that it was almost expected that I pick something up from there on Saturday mornings – and I didn’t even have to check in as to what either of you wanted; it was always an Egg McMuffin for you, and a couple of breakfast burritos for Daniel (it had been a McSkillet for a while, but when they discontinued that, the burritos and a hot mocha would have to do for him). Once the office insisted that no one come in during off hours (due, supposedly, to safety/security reasons), I still felt the need to pick up breakfast for us all – which eventually got a little dicey, as the time you and I spent ‘together’ (you know what I mean) would often drag on past the time when breakfast was still being served. It was a bit of a godsend when they started serving breakfast all day, and we could take all the time in the world together.

Still, the thing remained that what started out as a whim grew into a habit, and ultimately developed into an obligation so serious that we would deliberately limit ourselves in order to make sure we got out and got this meal for ourselves. To be sure, once we had Saturday together, we were picking up the meal as a couple (rather than it just being me heading out), so that was an additional moment that didn’t exist when the impulse first struck me way back when. But it was an integral part of our Saturday that, if I hadn’t regularly both gone off to work and also decided to stop on my way home, would never have been – and, now that I don’t work there any more, and you’re no longer around, Daniel and I don’t do anymore (which, given my attempts at losing weight, is probably just as well).

But for whatever reason, I can’t seem to shake the impulse of picking up ‘breakfast’ on my way home on Saturday mornings, even without being asked. I don’t know if the day will come when I return empty-handed – or I don’t go out in the first place – and Daniel will wonder what’s up with his weekend smoothie. I think he’ll know he can get one for himself (and likely decide it’s more trouble than it’s worth for him to drive out and get one for himself), but I do wonder if the one-time whim is starting to become an expected weekly thing, and whether anything should be done to prevent this from happening.

Then again, is there really any harm in it? It’s not as if he’ll even eat breakfast, if not so prompted. If he enjoys and appreciates it, why not keep it up? As much as I don’t want him dependent on me for this, why not do what I can while I can? For all I know, it’ll be one of those things that he’ll remember me for, and as parent and child relationships go, there are certainly worse ways to be remembered. So things will probably stay like this for a while yet, and we’ll see how they go.

But until things change – and maybe even beyond then – keep an eye on us, honey, and wish us luck. We’re going to need it.