Jacob is now attending "Sports Camp," which lasts from 9 am until 4 pm each weekday. I paid in advance for early- and late-childcare, where kids whose parents work can stay, supervised, and play more games. Every morning, I bring Jacob to early care at 7:30 when it opens. Since it's pretty early in the day for him, I bring him "breakfast" -- a carton of orange juice (not from concentrate), a drinkable yogurt, and two cereal bars.

And every morning, I see one of Jake's fellow campers eating his breakfast -- usually, a pack of Sour Skittles from the vending machine. Yesterday, I got nosy.

"Did you have breakfast before you came here?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"So, that candy is your breakfast?"

"Yeah," he said. "These Sour Skittles [sic]."

"Wow," I said. "I don't think I could just have candy for breakfast. I'd have a big old sugar crash by the time camp started." I demonstrated by letting my head fall with a pretend BANG on the table. The kids all laughed.

"Jacob likes these cereal bars," I said. "You ever have these?"

He nodded.

"You like them?"

Another nod.

"These are strawberry -- Jacob likes that flavor the best so far. You like strawberry, too?"

Nodding.

"So, if we brought extra cereal bars one morning, would you like to have some?"

The boys eyes widened almost imperceptibly and he said "yeah."

At this, Jacob looked across at the other boy and then up at me.

"Mommy? He could have one of mine now." And Jake reached across the table with an already-unwrapped cereal bar. The boy took it. Jacob's hand wavered, open and empty. I knew he was waiting for reciprocal Skittles.

"Jake, I don't think he needs to share his Skittles right now. You've got a pretty good breakfast there," I said. Luckily, he didn't get petulant (as he's wont to do), but dug into his own cereal bar.

I mentioned the situation to DH last night. I felt responsible for this boy -- whose name I still don't know -- and who probably do esn't give a hoot about eating something remotely healthy. Maybe his mom or dad would be insulted that some strange lady was bringing him food -- as if he were some sort of charity case. Maybe they don't know he's getting junk food from the vending machine for breakfast every day. Maybe they wouldn't care one way or another.

But this morning, I packed two extra cereal bars and put them at the spot next to Jacob. There was my little friend, with his Sour Skittles. I asked if he'd like to join Jacob for breakfast, and he sat right down.

When I left, they were comparing notes on how many Cubs games they'd each seen on TV. And they were both eating cereal bars. The Skittles sat open on the table, momentarily forgotten.