By Jack Kroft (Lynley’s man)
I DON’T know her real name. Could be Tiffany, or Abbie, or Brianne. She’s just a young girl with a cute bow in her hair and a pink plastic purse matching her outfit. But she’s across the aisle from me at Panera, having breakfast… with her mom, before school.
I don’t know why that makes my eyes mist and my nose sting. Yes, yes I do know why. Seeing them banter back and forth over blueberry muffins, I feel a twinge of sorrow. I don’t get to have that “special time” before school with my sons. They live with their mother, too far from my reach to pick them up before school. Even if that were possible, it wouldn’t fit in the “divorce agreement” (which, by the way, I DIDN’T agree to!)
The cute little girl and her mommy just walked out, talking about the child’s grandma. Their table is now as empty as I feel.
IF I could have breakfast with my sons, I’d do it one on one, with each of the four, at different times. You know, maybe I will. Despite the distance, and the inconvenience, maybe this “breakfast with Tiffany” that I just witnessed gave me inspiration.
I think it is. Yes. The hope I’m feeling now is actually washing away some of the emptiness.
In a study of nearly 8,000 children living in eight European countries, researchers found that those who ate breakfast with their parents five to seven times per week were as much as 40 per cent less likely to be overweight, than those who had a family breakfast just two to three times a week.