Emotional doughnuts

After the movie last night, we also had to stop at Krispy Kreme on the way home so the boys could watch the doughnuts being made. I don't think we'd ever have to buy any except we'd feel guilty standing in the store for 40 minutes and not actually get any. The boys would happily watch the process for an hour and walk out empty-handed.

The only problem is that I think I have the only kids (and wife) that become emotionally attached to pieces of fried dough. They'll watch the newly extruded pieces of dough enter the proofing chamber and proceed to adopt them as they work their way through the doughnut life cycle. They watch them ride their little shelves up and down as they rise to the proper dimensions. They cheer as the shelf tips the rings of dough into the hot oil. They get down low so they can watch the important flipping process. They experience deep anxiety as the cooked pastries have to travel under the eye of the Krispy Kreme worker who checks to ensure there are no defects. We have seen many a doughnut, even those with just the slightest imperfections, quickly snatched off the line, crushed, and mercilessly tossed onto the end of the conveyor belt where they slowly drop off into the doughy abyss of a plastic garbage bin. However, for those lucky enough to survive, they are treated to a coating of hot glaze and a home in an official Krispy Kreme box.

It doesn't seem to bother them that even the ones that are saved will just be eaten by someone. OlderSon told me "that's their job" so I guess it's more a matter of allowing the doughnut to achieve its life's goal. The only rule is that we can't eat one of the adopted doughnuts because that would be cannibalism or something. It's all very strange but I end up with doughnuts at the end of the evening so it's all worth it.