When It’s Time For Playmates

22 Jun

It is seldom that I blog about my family (only because the stories that I could share would be SO outlandish that nary a reader would believe my narratives and thus regard my every declaration going forward as untruths…but I digress),  but the exploits of my youngest child today were simply too ridiculous not to share.

Let me set up the story:  Because it was my Sunday to lead one of the many volunteer teams at church two days ago, I was able to enjoy a nice little repast between services (one of the perks of giving ones time and talents at my place of worship).  Anyway, after my meal was complete and before I could partake of my scrumptious cookies (2 ginormous chocolatey-chippy confections), I had to get back to my post.  Eagerly anticipating when the twin cavity inducers and I would once again meet, I placed the saran-wrapped goodies in my purse for later.  Well, it wasn’t until Monday when I pulled my checkbook out of my purse to balance it did I realize that I’d forgotten about my cookies.  As I extracted them from my bag and began a painstakingly careful examination for crumble damage, I was immediately met with an ecstatic “Oooh, cookies for me!”  I hadn’t realized it, but the baby child’s “sweets radar” was clearly activated, and he simply would not be denied.  When I explained to him that both cookies were in fact mine, and that he should not assume that everything he saw or wanted immediately belonged to him (a toddler lesson that at present, he has shown no real desire to learn), he gave me the “I’m truly hurt” pout-face and sulked away.

Fast forward to this morning; after I left my sleeping family to head off to work (I still stew in my own juices a bit at the fact that my school-system-administrator-husband and summer-vacationing-children get to slumber until noon while I am up racing the sun on the way to work each morning…but again, I digress) I got a call from my honey who shared that immediately upon waking up, our baby child found my cookies on the kitchen counter and proceeded to tell him, “you can’t have the cookies Da, they are momma’s and me’s!”  Again, the baby child had to be enlightened of whose cookies they were and who would not be getting them…or so I thought.

When I returned home from work, my mother had explained that my honey and kids had already left for track practice and that she was keeping the baby child.  As I got settled in and asked about her day and his, she told me that the baby child had something he wanted to tell me.  When I asked him why his G’ma sounded so foreboding, he looked at me with doe eyes and blurted out “I ate your cookies momma!”  My mother went on to explain that while she was cooking dinner, the baby child must have stealthily entered the kitchen and swiped the cookies off the counter.  Trying to keep a straight face, I explained to the baby child that it wasn’t nice to take things that didn’t belong to him.  When he nodded in understanding, I jokingly added that I didn’t think I wanted to be his friend because he ate my cookies and that if he wanted to keep his friends, he shouldn’t eat their snacks.  Realizing that this may potentially be upsetting to him, I quickly rephrased and ask if he’d rather have friendship or cookies.  He looked me square in the face and said deadpanned, “Your cookies.”

Seems as though I may need to forgo the sweets for a while and set up a play-date or two for the unsociable, sweet-toothed baby child.


One Response to “When It’s Time For Playmates”

  1. Tiffany June 24, 2010 at 10:04 pm #

    LOL, man he was like forget you, I want them cookies. That was too funny.

    Peace, Love and Chocolate

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