Back to school: a time every mother dreads. Not because we'll miss the little darlings-a mother's life revolves around her kids no matter the season-but because of the effect the school year has on our waistlines. I don't know about you, but when I'm making cookies for the PTA bake sale, not all of the goodies make it to school. And then there's the candy bars kids seem to sell year-round. Every September, my cholesterol spikes up 20 points.

A classic example occurred the very first Friday of the school year. My son's teacher sent a note home requesting that the kids bring in a Cool Whip container for a class project the following Monday. And since I'm a pack rat's worst nightmare-as in, I'm not positive I didn't throw out Jesse's birth certificate during a paperwork purge three years ago-I definitely don't keep used Cool Whip containers on hand.

Which meant I had two-and-a-half days to buy some whipped topping, eat it, and send the container to school. The things we do for our kids.

In the grocery store, I grabbed the carton of fat-free Cool Whip (which, honestly, doesn't taste any different from the regular kind to me), but Jesse became apoplectic. "Mommy, do not get the no fat kind. The real stuff tastes better."

You see, this is what happens when children learn to read. When he was younger, I could get away with my fat-free preferences. And who taught him to read? The same people who now demand Cool Whip containers.

So to keep the peace, not only did I have to eat half a container of whipped cream (Jesse had to pull his weight too), but I had to eat the full-fat variety. Oy.

I may be able to eat frosting straight from the can, but I'm no animal. I need to eat Cool Whip on something. Which led to a whole internal brainstorming session about what that substance might be. When you're eating a dessert, it's easy to think, "You know what would make this better? Cool Whip." But when you're approaching it from the opposite direction, it's not so easy.

And then it came to me: pudding. Making my way to the pudding aisle, I tossed a six-pack of fat-free pudding into the cart. Sensing a put-upon sigh from my metabolically gifted offspring, I said, "Pick out whatever you want; this is just for me." In flew something definitely not fat free.

But the hard part was still ahead-eating the darn stuff. Friday night, we had pudding and Cool whip with dinner. Saturday, we had pudding and Cool Whip with lunch and dinner. By Sunday morning, the Cool Whip seemed to be reproducing in the carton. And I was getting desperate.

"Jesse, do you want some Cool Whip on your Cheerios?" He gave me a look that said, "Mom has finally lost it." But worse than the look was the fact that he declined to have Cool Whip for breakfast.

In the end, despite our best efforts, we couldn't finish off the container. Then I had the brainstorm I should've had on Friday night: what if I just transferred the remainder to another container and sent the Cool Whip carton to school?

If only I'd thought of that 500 calories ago. TPW