The cookie jar

     Right, so most of us have gotten in some sort of trouble over dessert.  Hand in the cookie jar, finger in the frosting, mouth covered in ice cream we weren't allowed to eat.  Well, off the top of my head I can't remember one of those.  But I do remember the day that came back on me...


     My experience with baby-sitting is virtually non existent.  I don't do diapers and I'm not usually entertaining enough for children.  However we had some dear family friends that had 3 children.  Therefore they needed an occasional break.  And, one night, since my parents were home (back up), I decided to be nice and watch the kids.  What shall I do with them? hmmmm.  Cookies anyone?  Go figure I would turn my kitchen into a sweatshop to satisfy my own addiction. (Told you I love dessert)  And that is what I did...for the children.


     We spent all evening measuring and mixing and pouring (we obviously did not participate in "stuff-in-the-stuff".  Simple chocolate chip cookies)  and had a blast.  We agreed in advance that we would each have 1 cookie before the parents returned and then share our creation.  The parents would then dictate how many went home. Mostly this was because -A) who wants kids hyped up on sugar at YOUR house when you can send the sugar HOME with the kids!!  B) I wanted half the batch for myself as payment for my services! 


     We also agreed that any child who misbehaved would not get to help cook, and would forfeit the right to partake of the goods. ( I know what you're thinking and yes, I did explain the meaning of forfeit to them!)  Well the youngest broke the rules and was escorted from the premises (premises being the kitchen) to jail (living room...without T.V. ... scary). And there she stayed until the baking was done.  We then watched a movie and awaited the return of the parents....Here's where the twist came.


     The parents were proud and loved our handy work.  I bagged a few for them for the road, they all thanked me and said good night.....FINALLY cookies in peace.  I shut the door and raced to the kitchen.  Poured myself a tall glass of milk and went to the microwave where I had put the other DOZEN.  No plate.  Check the oven, empty.  Fridge? No dice.  where did the cookies go? Think, woman, THINK.  Then the sinking feeling.  Those darling angels disappeared for quite a while when I was chatting with the parents. No,  they couldn't have.  Not my babies, those innocent drops of sunshine. I check the sink, still in utter denial of what I'm considering. No plate. And then my eyes fall to the dishwasher. No, it can't be.  One single plate that has been rinsed and put in the back.  Those evil rugrats!  They acted like they didn't even know what a dishwasher was while it was clean-up time!!!  Not even a morsel left.  Those heartless buggers ate an entire dozen, didn't leave me a single cookie, AND hid the evidence!


     Naturally out-raged, I called the parents, who were A) shocked and dismayed at this behavior (gluttony, deceit, the list is growing)  or B) too busy laughing to even hear the details correctly.  You guessed it folks... B)  they thought this...this sin, this evil, was humorous!!!!! The kids didn't get in any trouble and were not even forced to apologize! Shameful.  Ok, maybe it's not a treasonous offence, and maybe I had it comin, but I was hurt (insert teary-eyed sad face here).  The whole thing was just aweful.  So I turned to my old faithful (at the time, I have evolved) Oreos. They were always there for me, and today was no exception.


     Needless to say I was not inspired to open a daycare after this.  But I assume they eventually got in trouble for something, and this was my punishment for dessert felonies i have committed in life.  I call it even.


That's my story...well one of the many.  share yours!