I made snickerdoodles for my young women's class on Sunday. I could tell Kyle was a little put-out that all thirty-six of them were not for him, but he didn't even try to eat my cookie dough as I was baking (that's a first!) and he sounded only slightly disgruntled when I explained they were for the twelve and thirteen year old girls at church. After church I had approximately ten cookies remaining. And this is the point where I should have counted and labeled each one because by the end of the night they were gone! Vanished! I kept thinking to myself, "How could I have eaten so many of those?? Kyle only had a couple..."
And 24 hours later the secret came out.
He had stashed them away!
His own private stash!
Of the cookies I had slaved over!
He just hid them away!
And then he ate them for lunch!
Can you even believe that?
And this after I had given him permission to eat my chocolate covered gummy bears.
And do you know what he tells me? "Every Post has a stash." He says this so matter-of-factly and as if I should have known this all along.
Where have I been?
This totally explains why he tried to hide the Chewy Chips Ahoy in the pantry underneath the hamburger buns that one time. (But I do have separate thoughts on Chewy Chips Ahoy which involve feeling that if you're going to buy store-bought cookies, then they might as well be crunchy because even chewy store-bought cookies will never be chewy like homemade cookies)
And so I baked a few dozen chocolate chip cookies.
And guarded them with my life.
I ate cookie dough all by myself.
And packaged them away tightly.
Except I felt sorry for him when he told me I was mean like a mother and so I gave in and shared my stash.
It's those pouty blue eyes, I tell you. They just get me every time.
But I am plotting my own private stash... and this time I'll not give in.