I baked a cake.
Walking by some hours later,
An interesting indentation
Had shown up, shaped
Remarkably like a finger
Of a six-year-old
Without impulse control.
This has never happened,
In dozens of cakes baked.
And it made me happy,
In a complicated way,
That a son cast aside caution
And had a moment when
He tasted what he wanted.
Do younger children grow up spoiled
Because their parents grow weary?
Or do the parents, as they age,
Start to see such a failing not as
Moral decay that must be eradicated,
But as a charming memory
Worthy of encomium?
Should I think of this as
Adam and Eve temptation, or
Carpe diem?
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