Marquita Griffin

Sometime during the past few days, I watched a video clip of a mother yelling at her son for taking and eating frozen waffles from her refrigerator.

The video, probably being filmed by a sibling, was entertaining, I admit.

I wasn’t laughing at the son getting scolded because he wasn’t having a blast.

But, watching his mother in her robe, her hands holding a frozen package or two of food, seemingly at her wit’s end, over devoured waffles was remarkably relatable.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve mentally rejoiced behind the promise of a tasty treat or leftover dish only to discover someone else in my house already consumed it.

Oh, the devastation. The pain. The fury.

I’ve admitted before on this very page that I’ve hidden in the closet to eat a sweet so I wouldn’t have to share, so, yes, I empathize with that mother.

But let’s return to something she said: her refrigerator.

I panicked when I heard that.

Unlike other people in the comments judging her for having a fridge filled with goodies that her children couldn’t sample, I wanted to know why she needed a fridge for herself in the first place.

Now, having two refrigerators isn’t a foreign idea to me.

Sometimes one fridge isn’t enough to regularly maintain a full house or the kind of routine you keep. I concede that.

But as I understood from the video, the mother had a fridge just for her things, like her frozen waffles.

I have two boys, and while they can stuff their gut when hitting a growth spurt, they usually stick to a simple diet that doesn’t burn a hole in my wallet.

Unless the food in question is any kind of chip, especially Doritos.

They inhale chips like their lives depend on them.

For Christmas one year, my brother-in-law sent a family-size bag of Doritos with their gifts.

They ate the chips before playing with the toys.

People tell me repeatedly that my sons will soon develop bottomless bellies and eat me out of house and home.

But not if I prepare like that mother in the video, I figure.

I sent the video to several of my friends who have children older than mine.

Is it true? I asked. Will I need a fridge of my own?

The responses were prompt: “Yes, probably.” “I’m thinking about getting one myself.” “Yep.”

They, too, empathized with the mother.

This, I realize, is what my parents meant by “Wait until you become a parent.”

They would say this to me when I complained about the “weird” or “unfair” rules and regulations they etched into stone.

There I was in my teenage mind thinking my parents were archaic or rigid.

I thought they didn’t understand what I was thinking or going through because they were just too old for this new world.

What a foolish child I was.

I was wrong.

Of course, they could masterfully navigate the challenges of life, stay abreast on all vital issues, and run a home while effectively rearing two children in a rapidly transforming society.

And in all of that chaotic responsibility, they carved out little slices of sanity for themselves.

That’s why I laughed heartily at the video.

I immediately recognized what that refrigerator is for that mom — her bit of sanity in an otherwise insane world.

So, kids, that’s why sometimes a frozen waffle can be the difference between a good day and a bad day for you.

It doesn’t make sense now, I know.

But if you ever become a parent or guardian of a growing child, it will.

Reach Marquita Griffin at

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