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Today we made cookies.
Sarah had one hot out of the oven.
Emily had one hot out of the oven.
I had one after it cooled a bit because I have p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e. I am 36. I can wait.
Then they wanted another one, but I told them they had to wait until after dinner. So, they went back out to the living room to play. I cleaned up the baking stuff, loaded the dishwasher and began to make dinner.
As I was putting the cooled cookies into a container, I popped one into my mouth and took a bite.
Emily came into the kitchen and gasped.
“How come you can have 2 cookies and we can’t??!!” she yelped in dismay.
“Because I didn’t eat M&M’s the entire time I was making cookies.” I said. “And because I didn’t get a ‘sweet treat’ at school today.”
Those are the things I said the first time she protested. I thought she got the point.
She left the room in a huff and came back and asked me a second time while I was polishing off the last part of the cookie and this is what I said:
“Because I can do whatever I darn well want to. I am over 18. When you are over 18 you can do these things too. It will be something to look forward to. I am an adult and I know how to control what I eat.”
“You and your sister are like dogs. You will eat cookies and crap until your bellies explode. It is my job to see that you don’t explode. So you will wait until after dinner to have another cookie. Got it?”
She got it.
Or at least I think she did. She forgot about the cookies and wanted to know exactly how much food the dogs would need to eat before their bellies exploded, which turned into a whole other discussion as to if we would see the explosion or if it would just happen inside of them.
The conversation about exploding bellies took 30 minutes.
I never should have had that second cookie.