Brunch in Manhattan... something that we all look forward too. This past Sunday I went to The Barking Dog on the Upper East side with some friends. As I sat there I noticed a father with his two daughters sitting at a table across from us. The girls were around 5 and 7 years old, the same ages as my nieces, and the father was well-groomed and in his forties.

Brunch in Manhattan... something that we all look forward too. This past Sunday I went to The Barking Dog on the Upper East side with some friends. As I sat there I noticed a father with his two daughters sitting at a table across from us. The girls were around 5 and 7 years old, the same ages as my nieces, and the father was well-groomed and in his forties.

The girls were sitting next to each other, well behaved and curious.  Lots of little stories, looking around the restaurant, and attempting to capture their father’s attention.  When the waitress came to their table, I was surprised when I heard the dad order a banana split and French fries.  I sat their in silent disbelief for a few moments and then shared what I saw with my friends.  They casually laughed it off and I shared my prediction for a change of the horizon.  

The “meal” arrives and the girls each have a few mouthfuls.  Less than fifteen minutes later, the same sweet girls are unable to sit in their chairs and are now taking turns running around the restaurant. The father is left pleading with his own small children to sit down.  Five minutes later he was begging for mercy.  We sat at our table and watched.  What my friend’s saw as an annoyance, I saw as a heartbreaking transformation.

I question left lingering in my head seemed so simple: How do you expect to have calm, attentive children when you feed them tons of sugar?