Cookie-Crutches

Humans often use food (especially unhealthy foods) as a crutch to provide temporary emotional stability. Chocolate, Ice-Cream, ungodly amounts of Pizza, Squeezy-Cheese from a can, and Cookie-Dough are top on the list of comfort foods (I call them Cookie-Crutches.) The trouble with these substitutes is that they are often not as effective as an actual long tern solution would be (I know, it's a tough concept to swallow.)

When things get stressful for me (as I'm sure they will at some point this summer) I will not have my "Cookie-Crutch."

Ah, but there is hope. A recent experience in my Church's nursery on Sunday Morning gave me an insight that I would like to share with my fellow Sugar-freemen (that, guys, is our new "groupie" name, okay?)

Three children regularly attend the Nursery on Sundays. Child#1 is basically an angel and generally very easy to manage (except when she's clawing the new-comers.) Child#2 is Child#3's big brother (he's three and 1/2 years old and I love him.) He's a doll and very helpful at keeping his sister in toe. Child#3 looks cute, but she has attachment issues. When Parent's or Child#2 disappear she begins an endless flow of tears (like Alice's from "Alice in Wonderland") that grow bigger, sadder, and more hysterical on a bi-secondly basis.

Everything was going fine (as they tend to right before a massive disaster) until Child#2 had to use the restroom. As soon as he closed the bathroom door behind him, his sister, Child#3, turned on the sprinklers. Tears gushed forward uncontrollably. I opened the door for her to follow her brother into the restroom. Didn't help. So I picked up Child#1 (who's too young to be left alone) and we march in after Child#2&3.

Child#1 heard the crying (which hadn't stopped) and thought something must be wrong (I don't actually know what she was thinking, I'm just assuming that's how her thought process worked), so she started crying too. So two of my three charges are sobbing in an echoing bathroom right off the main sanctuary. I dragged all three children (not literally) out of the restroom to try and calm everyone down, unsuccessfully of course.

Child#1 was no longer crying, she was just mimicking the noise Child#3 was making, with a bright, cheery smile on her face ("Isn't this fun, Mary?"). Child#2 had stopped trying to calm his sister down and was shouting "She's not a big girl, is she? Nooo." Thanks for the heads up, Child#2. Child#3 was inconsolable. I offered her toys, I offered her Child#1's toys, I offered her a time-share when she turns 21. Bottles, blankets, and big hugs (which actually hurt the cause) didn't help. Finally I pulled out the cookies.

I had one small, animal cookie in my hand. Slowly I approached the hysterical girl.

I think it's important to mention at this point that Child#3 has always been somewhat terrified of me.

Back to the story: I'm holding the cookie in my hand, between the tips of my fingers. She sees it and (while still crying) assumes a look of curiosity. I knew that if I moved in closer she would get scared and run away (still crying.) I gently laid the cookie down on the kiddie table in front of her, feeling like a crazy native offering a sacrifice to King Kong.

As I backed away, she came forward. She grabbed the cookie and darted into a corner...Still crying.

What was this? She had the cookie! She was eating it! I knew it tasted good! So what was the problem?

No, Child#3 did not stop crying until her Mom came in and took her from my care. It actually took a person whom she loved to quiet her down.

Watching her be rocked by her Mother, chewing happily and peacefully on the animal cookies I'd given her, I realized two things: 1. Food doesn't make us feel better - People do. And 2. I miss Animal Crackers.