This weekend, I flew the coop. I packed up my littlest chicken and flew the coop.
I met up with a gaggle of hens, some I knew, some I didn’t (but do now!) and I knew the weekend wouldn’t be complete without Oreos. I bought three family-sized packages and scattered them throughout the cabin we crashed at.
I came home yesterday with three half-eaten packages of Oreos. I made it to the last hour of church, and as my kiddos rushed to my side as church let out, I promised them an Oreo once we got to the car together.
Within seconds of being handed their promised Oreo, they were begging through chocolate-cookie covered teeth for “just ONE more, Mom!”
“After your dinner is gone…”
I came home and put one package of Oreos away in the snack cupboard. I put it on top of the Strawberry Milk Mix. On TOP.
And then I went outside and unloaded a few more items. I went to put a second half-eaten package away in the snack cupboard and I found the first package of Oreos by the SIDE of the Strawberry Milk. My daughter sauntered into the kitchen.
Guilty has a certain, special sort of aura that Mothers can sniff out from under a pile of dirty diapers.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other and looking in every direction but one: AT me.
“You stole an Oreo!” I said.
“HOW DID YOU KNOW?!”
“What consequence should we have?” I asked.
“No piano for three days,” she flippantly suggested.
“No Oreos after dinner,” I firmly replied.
“WHAT?” She threw her hands in the air, “No FAIR!”
“If you make an Oreo mistake, you get an Oreo Consequence,” I said, not unaware of my hips and bulging stomach and the TRUTH I was speaking.
She threw a little fit, and life went on. I told her maybe she might be able to have one, single, solitary Oreo right before bed… we would see how the rest of the day went.
The rest of the day went swimmingly, so around 9 pm, I gave each child one Oreo each and packed them up to go visit Grandma and Grandpa really quickly.
I apologize once again to Mom and Dad for the late hours.
“You promised one before bed, remember?” My daughter asked.
“This is the one before bed.”
“So I had THREE Oreos today?” She asked.
“Right. One for a treat after church, one as a mistake, and one before bed.”
“How did you know I stole? I was so quiet and I even close the door when I snuck.”
“I’m not going to tell you how I knew!” I laughed.
“Why?” She whined.
“Because! Then you’ll use it later to sneak more stuff!”
“ugh,” she groaned, “Please will you tell me?”
As we drove up to my parent’s house, her voice spoke up again, softer this time.
“Mom? I need to tell you about a mistake again.”
“Just a minute, I’m working with Sissy…”
As I got out of the car, she tugged on my hand…, “MMMMMMommmmmmmmmmmm.”
She meant business.
“I need to tell you about another mistake.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Actually, there was two more Oreos,” she held two fingers up in front of two terrified eyes.
And I BURST out laughing. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it.
And she BURST into tears.
I scooped her up because she’s still light enough to do that with, and I put her on the hood of our ’98 jeep (tanker).
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
“I am SO AFRAID!” She said.
I soothed her and talked to her about mistakes and making not-so-great choices and about honesty and bravery and doing things that scare us.
When her tears dried up, she went on to confess, “I took three Oreos. I snuck so quiet to my bed and held so still so you wouldn’t see and I was behind my sleeping bag and my pillow and I was eating and breathing and you didn’t even know.”
Her honesty is inspiring, and I’d like to take this chance to come clean.
I took at least 600 cookies and ate them in the bathroom or my room.
And I also ate probably 20 cough drops, just for fun. And not to rat anyone out, but I had help. And his name rhymes with Bike.
I took at least 200 Little Debbie snacks and ate them without asking. I mastered the art of taking a package out without letting the plastic wrap make any noise. In a small way, I’m sort of proud of that. I mean, those things are really noisy.
Also: the numerical figures I gave are probably on the “plus” side of the actual numbers, but I’ve found erring in the way of awfulness to be key. I mean, what if I shot low and said I took 6 Little Debbie snacks? I’d spend the rest of my life RAKED OVER WITH GUILT wondering if it was more!
So let’s stick with the figures I gave you.
Apparently Lacy saying, “So I had THREE Oreos today?” just riddled the poor girl with guilt… because she knew it was 5.
And here’s to today: It’s not quite ten and already Trenton is begging for Moreos… a cute smash-up of “more” and “Oreos” which I believe fits awesomely.
Brad and Angelina belong together JUST AS MUCH as do More and Oreos.