determination

It takes all forms. Today, determination found itself in the shape of a small domed cookie flecked with chocolate chips. 

On the way out of church, some high school students had set up a bake sale table to support World Vision. There were muffins, breads and cookies of all types, going for anywhere between fifty and seventy-five cents. A tired girl had no sooner stuffed a quarter bagel into her gob when she quickly began signing and saying, "More! More!" and pointing with insistency at the table before us. I handed her off to a lovely high school girl so as to dig deep in my bag for a wallet. I found it shortly, past the sun hat, sunblock, sunglasses, diaper, wipes, sippy cup and calendar, way at the bottom.

Before a word of warning could escape my lips, a tiny but mighty hand swept in with such fury and ferocity that the slow-moving adolescent guardian was no match. I decided then and there to forgo a "healthier" option of whole wheat flour and fruit filling for the delightfully browned, packed with chocolate chips, to-be-taken-with-a-glass-of-milk cookie that had found its way into a contented little hand. 

She grasped that cookie tightly as we paid the ladies and made our way to the car. Her quick movements the moments before could not hide the sleepy eyes foretelling the long, much-needed nap that lay ahead. The small one sat in her seat and on the short ride home I watched in the rear view mirror as she alternated between nodding off and taking just one more bite. The battle of wit versus twitch continued all the way into the garage, where I removed the wee girl, body wilting into my arms, and carried her upstairs to the crib. 

As her head laid down onto the soft pink sheet, the fingers of her left hand loosened ever so slightly from my arms yet in her right hand that cookie stayed firmly grasped. She rolled over, smiled a big, squinty, four-toothed grin, and put that cookie to her mouth. There she lay, making it clear that she had no intentions of giving up her treat even to rest. I left the room, returning a few minutes later to see her head to the side, eyes half-mast, completely relaxed, and right arm bent at the elbow with the cookie laying touching her lips ever so lightly.