OK, call us bad parents. Call us stingy, or unloving. Remind us that we will be the reason why our daughters will need 200 dollar-an-hour shrinks when they are 35 and feeling "un-loved." It's all our fault... because we hid the Oreos where they can't find them.
About 3 weeks ago, Brandy splurged and purchased the cookies while on a "Mommies Gettin' Away for Sanity" trip to the grocery store. When she returned she very quietly placed the delicious little treasures out of the peering eyes of the "Vocal Minority" (Madelyn) and the "Cabinet Rockclimber" (Megan). Of course I cannot let Brandy take all the blame. Dad decided that the dark, sugar- filled morsels probably required, well, -- parental guidance.
The splendor of a well kept secret, tucked away, and "out of site...out of mind" for the youngsters...and dad. I hate to admit I also forgot they were up there until today. The two children were playing in the backyard, and Brandy went into the kitchen, and very quietly retrieved the package from an upper cabinet shelf (in fact, maybe she was trying to hide them from me, she knows how forgetful I am!) I noticed, and it was like seeing a long lost friend, a buddy who was once at the other end of the world now returning home, and a smile came across my face, and I called out from the computer across the room, saying, "hey, where were those?"
Brandy said, "Sssshhhh." Reminding me that "the children" with super hearing and a keen sense of smell would soon discover us out, and that would be the end of our Oreo stash.
I whispered, "I think I want two." (Oreos-- not children, we have two already, they are plenty.) With a look of disgust, Brandy reluctantly fished another Oreo from the horde. The look on her face reminded me of a certain Seinfeld episode and the conundrum Eileen was in, except here Brandy was asking herself , "is my husband 'Oreo-worthy'?"
There is nothing like a snack after school. And I savored the first Oreo as Brandy and I talked about the day, carrying on conversation without the worry of having to stop mid-thought to say "YA'LL BETTER FIGURE IT OUT IN THERE!" or "Not right now dear...Not right NOW dear...NOT RIGHT NOW DEAR!" or a myriad of other concerns coming from a point of view somewhere around 2.5 to 3 feet from the ground.
But suddenly without warning as I started on the second Oreo, the back screen door opened and through it came "The Vocal Minority." She took one look at dad, looked at the second cookie in my hand, and then turned to mommy, and with sterling resolve, a low intonation, and brevity of language, said:
"Coo-kie."
We tried to continue, like we didn't hear her. She repeated, a little louder, "Coooooo-KIE."
It was then, we knew the jig was up. Her blackmail successful, we gave her the Oreo. I could have kicked myself for my gluttony. Brandy reminded me of this as she handed Madelyn the co-opted confection, saying, " You know she would've never seen it, if you had only asked for one."
However, the bribe kept "Vocal minority" from raising her voice with her next request, and alerting the "Cabinet Rockclimber" who, once discovering, is smart enough to get a cookie this time, wait around to see where mom stashes it, and then climb up to get another whenever she wants (give a man a fish... teach the man to climb a cabinet to get a fish-- you get the idea.) After eating all of her plunder, Madelyn abruptly turned and headed back out the door with what I thought was a very satisfied look. Brandy replaced the Cookie Cache and sat down at the computer to check e-mail.
After a minute or two, Megan came to the door with Madelyn in tow. "Mommy, look at this!" She said.
Madelyn stood there at the door, next to her big sister, wearing a smile that would make the Cheshire cat envious. And encircling the smile...the tell-tale black crumbs of O-R-E-O. It took all the poker face Brandy and I could muster. Brandy said, "Yes, Megan?" feigning ignorance.
Megan said, "Mommy, Madelyn's been eating dirt!"
A pregnant pause ensued.
Brandy replied, "Yes, yes she has..."
