Two liters of happiness

I volunteered to work at Mark's soccer carnival last weekend. The bad news is my slot started at 8 a.m. (on a SATURDAY!). The good news is, they put me in the nachos and snow-cone booth, which was slow. Apparently, nachos and snow-cones are not considered breakfast food.

My volunteer work brought on a bout of single-mom-itis, which flares up in social events that aren't conducive to decent babysitting hours or dragging your kid along. The other moms in my booth had left their kids home with Dad. Since Mark has no patriarchal babysitter, he got to be the lone kid worker in our booth.

Unfortunately, there was no one to help, so I sent Mark off with instructions to buy carnival tickets and play any of the games within my sight. He returned with my change, and eagerly described a booth giving away soda as prizes.

"The BIG bottles!" he exclaimed before running off. He could barely contain himself.

Next thing I know, the little stinker returned with a big smile and an even bigger bottle of soda.

"I WON!" he shouted happily.

"I can see that," I said, admiring his two-liter bottle of Diet Coke.

"I even got the caffeine-free kind," he announced. I rarely let him drink soda, because a) it's not good for him, and b) the last thing that kid needs is a caffeine rush! But he'd bested me by choosing his wisely.

He was so proud, I couldn't stomp on his little heart. I let him keep it.

The minute we got home, Mark insisted he was starving for lunch.

"It's only 11," I answered.

"But I'm sooooo hungry!" he cried. I relented, and he immediately filled a glass with his liquid gold -- Diet Coke!

"I can't wait to drink this every night for dinner!" he told me gleefully. "I'm gonna drink Diet Coke for a week!"

He finished off the first glass before I even finished grilling his cheese sandwich. "Slow down," I warned. He nodded, but two minutes later, I caught him chugging straight from the bottle. He carried the bottle with him wherever he went the rest of the day.

By dinner time, Mark was on his third glass. He showed off his prize to my cousin Kathleen, and again announced it was caffeine-free. I suggested he offer Kathleen a glass, and the smile immediately left his face.

"But it's mine!" he protested. "I won it, so I get to drink it."

"Yeah, but you don't have to drink it all at once!" Kathleen told him. I gave him the stink eye for being impolite, so he changed tactics.

"Well, you probably need the caffeine," he said, helpfully. "I'll get you a can of Diet Coke with caffeine instead."

She nodded and whispered to me as soon as he left the room, "He's so happy, I didn't want to drink his soda!"

"I know," I said. "I don't have the heart to tell him he can't drink it all today."

By the time he went to bed, the bottle was down a liter, and Mark was a content, stuffed little boy. And I was glad, too; I realized my son doesn't need fancy clothes or expensive video games to make him happy.

Now I know his happiness can be bought for a mere 99 cents.