Cookie Monster

I was starved the other day when I picked up the girls. I meant to grab a piece of chocolate from the kids' Halloween stash but totally forgot in my rush to get out of the house in time.

These days I have been packing some snacks into the girls' lunchboxes because they are always whining that they are so hungry when I pick them up from school. I also packed another lunchbag of snacks, including microwave popcorn which is Joey's favorite. Knowing how much Joey loves popcorn, I thought (mistakenly) that she would not miss her bag of chocolate chip cookies that I packed into her school lunchbox but found uneaten. On the way to Elysha's gymnastics class, however, Joey asked me for the cookies. I distracted her with the popcorn, verbally drawing dramatic pictures of the delicious morsel she would dine on soon. She smiled contently as we drove to class. I mentally pat myself on the bag for avoiding the whining and meltdown that would have occurred had I confessed to eating her cookies.

I left the popcorn in the microwave a little too long so some of it was burnt and it just didn't taste very good. So Joey started asking me for the cookies again. I panicked, I didn't know what to do. Should I tell her that I ate them and deal with another dramatic episode in front of other moms? Hoping to avoid public humiliation, I told Joey that the cookies were in the car and we would get them in a little bit. Yes, that's right folks, I lied to my child. I spat in the face of morality to satiate my growling stomach. As we were walking to the car, she began to ask me for the cookies again. Damn, these kids with their single-mindedness! So I told her it was getting too late to be snacking. Whining commenced. I offered her other options but to no avail. Animal crackers? Goldfish crackers? Brownies? Nope, nope, nope--she just wanted her cookies...so I just said, we'll see...I was trying to buy some time to think of something I could tell her.

As I loaded up the troops into the car, Joey scrambled up front to grab her lunchbox. Dead woman walking, that's what I am. I expected her to open up her lunchbox, notice the missing chocolate chip cookies, and just start bawling. I could see her in therapy, 20 years later, discussing all the deprivation she experienced at the hands of her mother.

But the most unexpected thing happened. She pulled out her organic, salt-free, brown rice cracker, smiled, and went back to her car seat, happily munching on styrofoam. I don't understand exactly what happened here, but disaster was diverted, and I learned a valuable lesson; always keep a secret stash of cookies in the car for me.