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The scream was piercing.

One of those primal, gut wrenching screams that you hear in movies and wonder how on earth they can do that over and over. It made my blood run cold. I snapped my head around to see what could possible be causing my not yet two year old such pain.

From the sound of the scream, I expected there to be blood at the very least. Maybe glass shards or giant, jagged splinters of wood. There was no thud, so I knew it wasn't a fall, plus that scream wasn't a fall scream. It was a scream I had never heard before.

I jumped up and ran to the next room, fearing what I would find. Sam was there. There was no carnage. There was no blood. There was no injury. Sweet Sam stood in the middle of the dining room pointing into the kitchen. It had to be Jay. The kitchen is filled with potential hazards. Knives, glass, matches, salt, water, eggs. Jay is a magnet for all things painful or messy. I swung around to see what could have happened. And there he stood.

He was a mess already. His mouth was covered and his hands were sticky. Sam was hopping up and down like a troll, waving and screeching to beat the band. Jay had this horribly guilty look on his face and he tried to hide is hands behind his back.

"Miiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeee," bellowed Sam, "miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnne."

There was no bodily harm. There was no near catastrophe. Jay was visibly frightened, but not because of any pain or injury. Sam was near hysterical, but not because of some imepending doom. Slowly Jay put his hands in front of him and weakly grinned as he revealed the source of the strife.

A chocolate covered doughnut.

One of those little doughnut gems that I had fgotten at the day old bakery for 29 cents a pack. This wasn't just any doughnut, though. It was Sam's doughnut. He had stolen Sam't chocolate doughnut. That was what had triggered the scream that easily took 3 years off of my life. A doughnut.

Oh, to be a child again and have my biggest concern be the theft of a waxy, psuedo-chocolate doughnut.