The Snack Shelf
In March, I enrolled both children in counseling through a community family center.
Noah talked about getting stomachaches before visits to my parents’ house. Lily admitted she used to hide snacks in her backpack after Sunday dinners because she was afraid Grandma might forget to feed her.
When the counselor told me that, I cried in the parking lot for twenty minutes.
Then I went home and cleared out one kitchen cabinet. I filled it with granola bars, crackers, fruit cups, and little cereal boxes. I wrote on a sticky note: Noah and Lily’s snack shelf. Always allowed.
Lily read it three times.
“Always?” she asked.
“Always.”
She hugged me so hard her forehead bumped my chin.
