Ever since my wife went in for heart surgery, friends have been bringing us food. Dinners, desserts, snacks… It’s been absolutely wonderful, and a huge help to me.

A few days back, dinner arrived with eclairs. There were four of them, each far too big for the kids to eat at a single sitting. I  forced the boys to split one for their dessert that evening. They argued, but I held my ground.

Then I hid the last eclair in the back of the fridge. I’m careful never to steal the kids’ treats, but if they forget about something… well, then it’s fair game.

As we were finishing dinner last night, the boys remembered their eclair.

“I think it may have been eaten,” I said.

They looked at each other with accusing glares, then at me. “Da-addy!” they accused.

“I’m not saying it was eaten. Just that it may have been.”

“You – you…” my youngest son sputtered.

“If you ate our eclair,” his older brother threatened. “I’m gonna – ”

“I’m not saying I did! I’m just saying that it might be gone.”

My youngest stood up. “I’m going to look.”

“No.” I said. “Finish your dinner.”

“But – ”

“It’s okay,” my wife interrupted. “You can go look.”

“Wait!” I said.

Too late. He was already digging through the fridge.

“It should be right in the front if it’s still there,” I said weakly.

“Found it!” He held up the missing eclair.

“Hmph.” I glared at my wife. “I guess no one ate it, after all.”

Laughing, they divided it up between the two of them.

You know what’s worse? They didn’t even offer me a bite.