A few days ago my daughter got out the little silver tea set my mother gave her. She lovingly polished every piece with the silver polish. Then she set out tea–or rather, Coke, of course. And she added spoonfuls of sugar to the Coke from the silver sugar dish because clearly there’s just NOT ENOUGH sugar in the Coke already, plus she wanted to use the sugar dish. She found every last Hershey’s Kiss we had in the house and munched them all down as the accompaniment to her Coke-tea, leaving a trail of wrappers in her wake. “Chocolate,” she told me, “is a girl’s best friend.” Now where did she learn that?:rolleyes:
Night before last, I heard BANG BANG BANG in the kitchen a little bit after dinner. Cabinet doors. Banging. One after another. I went in there and said, WHAT are you doing? My daughter said she was looking for junk food. Well, there’s not any. Nothing suitable for late-night snacking or dessert. Haven’t been to the store lately. We’re down to, gasp, healthy food, and she’d eaten the last of the chocolate in her big Coke-tea party. It was all very disappointing. In fact, when I told her, really, we DON’T have any, you can stop looking, she started crying. When you’re nine, a dearth of dessert is a huge blow. Too much to bear. I told her, “You should have eaten more vegetables at dinner if you’re that hungry.” She wailed in agony. She found a brownie mix in the pantry. “I’ll eat this!” I told her, no, it’s too late to bake. “I DON’T CARE IF IT’S BAKED!” (I mean, really, I think she was nearly foaming at the mouth.) No, I told her, you can’t eat the mix straight from the box!! More wailing.
It’s so bad around here that my fourteen-year-old took time out of his busy summer of eating sandwiches, watching TV, and acting like I don’t exist to speak to me: “You need to go to the store.”
My twelve-year-old was more direct: “WHEN are you going to the store?”
Don’t any of these people understand that the Romance Writers of America conference is next week and I’m on a diet???
Yesterday afternoon we did finally bake the triple chocolate hot fudge brownie mix that she had wanted to eat straight from the box. Look at her eyes. Aren’t they scary? Those are the eyes of the CHOCOLATE-DEPRIVED.
Man, those brownies looked so good last night. They smelled even better. I could TASTE THEM IN MY MIND. I resisted. Not one bite. AM I STRONG OR WHAT? And they are still there, staring at me, this morning……. Eeek!!!