I promised Addison a donut. I told him . . . Sunday? I think, that if he let me clip his toenails, I'd take him to Dunkin' Donuts the last day. (Yes, I did just use toenails and donuts in the same sentence.) But then, I didn't deliver. That is officially unforgivable. He hasn't brought it up, but that shouldn't matter. He shouldn't have to. You tell someone they've got a donut coming, you bring on the donut. You tell your son a donut is coming his way and fail to bring on the donut, you're a Dunkin' Donut Deadbeat Dad.
The donut, like a wedding ring, is a symbol of unending love. But it's also the symbol for zero, which is how I feel.
Here's the thing . . . Addison doesn't just love donuts, he loves going to Dunkin' Donuts. He loves sitting in the Dunkin' Donuts and eating the donut and getting up twice to get napkins and telling the lady behind the counter thanks for the donut after he's done eating. And he loves sitting across the table from me while he's eating the donut.
And he is dead scared of getting his toenails clipped.
So I've been busy and tired and sick and I forgot. I deserve nothing less than public chastisement. Feel free to rain it down on me. Bring on the insults. Every one will be a reminder that I've got a date tomorrow.
