Lark’s apple juice getaway

It was never about the juice. Never underestimate a toddler with an apple alibi.

Miss Lark, 2, led me to the juice station
like she owned the resort buffet.
“Apple juice pleeaassh.”

I poured some into a little glass.
A touch stingy, but strategic.
Spill-wise.
Handed it to her.

She looked at it, looked at me, and asked,
“More pleaassh.”
So I poured a little extra.
Attempted to hand it back to her again.

She went in for a third ask.
Perhaps she was really thirsty?
Or feeling grown up?

As I leaned in and started the pour,
her eyes sparkled and
she made her move.

Full sprint.
Past the long buffet line.
Past the maître d’.
Straight out the wide-open door.

A toddler loose in the resort!

She ran as fast as the buffet juice flowed.
The sign warned me it was fast.

I should have known
the warning wasn’t about the juice.