The Nerve

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.

The nerve.

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.