When I was in acting school, there was an exercise we used to do called Private Moment. Basically, it was the challenge to be private in public. Not to recreate what you did while alone, but to actually have some elements of privacy while in front of an audience. It was a scary, self conscious task. One that can never truly be achieved because of The Uncertainty Principle; something or someone has to change merely because it is being observed. But the attempt alone can really make one blush.

Today in the car, I was reminded of this exercise as I watched my daughter eat a jelly donut in her car seat. She smelled it. She talked to it. She bit it and licked it. Her eyes lit up when her tongue stumbled upon the jelly inside. She devoured some parts and slowly inspected the last bites of chewy sugar as if to make them go on forever. At one point she danced and sang with glee while she chewed this damn donut.

Her face was a mess. Her hands were sticky and sometimes her voice was so thick with fried-ness that I couldn't decipher her version of the lyrics to"Doe a Deer." And after it was all over, without hesitation, she reached for the small bag of Munchkins that I had bought for her brother. He had taken one bite of his tiny donut that he held in his tiny hand. One bite sustained him from Dunkin' Donuts to the Borders Bookstore and back home. At times it looked like he was going to maybe sink his little teeth into another morsel and maybe even reach the small goal of ingesting half of this miniature donut hole. But just as he lifted his treat filled hand to his mouth, he was distracted by a book or a piece of lint on the floor. Nothing could ever be distracting enough for my daughter to look away from that jelly donut. She was consumed and I understood completely. It was my son's actions that seemed foreign to me. Outrageous even. I wanted to scream, "You have a donut in your hand, how are you not eating it? And if you really aren't going to eat it, then give it to me!"

At what point do we stop having intimate relationships with donuts? At what point does jelly donut licking become a shameful Private Moment? My daughter was in her own world but had she noticed me observing her, it would not have deterred her from the enjoyable task at hand. It would not have made her blush. It would not have made her think about her indulgence. It would not have made her swear to herself that she would only eat salad for dinner.

When I used to have to pick a Private Moment to do in class, food was always something that came to mind. No, I didn't really want anyone to see me pick my nose or drunk dial an old flame but I really didn't want anyone to see me eat with abandon either. Eating spaghetti in a restaurant with other people sure looks different than sitting on the couch by myself with a bowl of pasta watching The Sopranos. Things do change when they are observed.

Do I want my daughter to stuff gooey filled pastries in her mouth in public? Not so much. But do I want her to lose all the joy associated with feasting on such a fun and nutritionally devoid snack? I'd like for her to be able hone in on some social cues but not because she needs to be liked or slim. And not because her mother frowned upon her eating habits.

I loved watching her eat today. I'll bet, as I looked at her through the rear view mirror, if I had glanced quickly at my own reflection, that my lips were chewing right along with her. Enjoying her enjoyment. I was tiptoeing around her Private Moment. Never wanting to pierce it with the reality of "How To Behave", brought to you by Your Mother. I feel like I read her that book all day every day. I want her to continue to have some Private Moments in front of me and the world. I know the day will come when the door will shut and the headphones will go on. I'm sure one day it will be loud music and a cigarette as she drives herself to high school. But for now it's, Julie Andrews and a Jelly Donut in front of me and it's beautiful.