He really wanted a donut.
They were selling big ones filled with cream or jelly. They dripped glaze in all directions. It was a weird choice for a track meet.
I said, "No. Drink your water. We do not eat very large, gooey, dripping pastries just before we run a mile." I was using the universal "we" since I actually had no intention of running a mile.
"What if I go faster than I did on Friday?" he asked.
The donuts were a dollar.
"Alright," I said. "If you go faster today than you did on Friday, I'll buy you one."
On Friday his time was (unofficially) 7:46.
Yesterday, his first split was faster than it was on Friday. His second split was the exact same. His third split was also the same.
His fourth split was faster.
He is some kind of seven-year-old running machine. And, okay...so I've done some research. I've found that there are seven-year-olds who run sub seven minute miles. There are actually kind of a lot of them. But I'm pretty proud of my own kid's ability to get around that track four times. He doesn't complain. He doesn't get an angry face. He just keeps running.
So, yes. I bought him the gross, dripping donut. He ate every bite.