Yesterday, I thought I was being really smart. In the late afternoon, I'd happened into a chic, newish Park Slope coffee shop, Venticinque, and as I was ordering a little pick-me-up, I spotted something on the counter: chocolate-chip cookies, $1 apiece.
Now, I wasn't particularly hungry, but they might be just the thing to give to my 2-year-old daughter, Sasha, when I picked her up from daycare in an hour. Three stops on the subway may not seem like much, but that kid can get jumpy and cranky fast. A cookie, however unhealthful, could keep her occupied. Maybe.
An hour or so later, I sat her on my lap on the F train, reached into my pocket and pulled out the cookie, only slightly melted from my body heat. Sasha grew excited as I unwrapped its plastic sheath, and when she bit in and smiled, I felt vindicated.
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