In my previous life I’ve been known to eat. There was the time I ate an entire apple pie and the time I ate the entire wholesale club size tub of cheese balls and I have yet to live down my order of 10 soft tacos from Taco Bell. In my defense, I was a swimmer and those tacos are so small! Since I’ve aged and started paying for my own groceries, I’ve learned to tone down my appetite a little bit. I’ve also learned to do food math like “I have ten cookies, if I eat two cookies a night that means I can have cookies for five days”. Five days of two cookies sounds much better than one day of ten cookies. (note: this math does not work when married to Stampy who will eat your cookies as a late night snack)

So, Stampy and the kids made cookies Wednesday afternoon. Delicious, homemade chocolate chip cookies. On Wednesday and Thursday they were eaten in sane amounts, properly doling out cookies as desserts for everyone. Then last night happened. There were three cookies left. I could eat one cookie and save two so each kid could have one more cookie or I could eat three cookies. I chose the latter. I can’t even remember the last time I ate three cookies in one sitting and now I don’t know why I don’t do it more often. They were delicious! (I do have the best chocolate chip cookie recipe) Of course there is the littlest bit of mommy-guilt kicking in that I didn’t save the kids a cookie, but I try not to let that get to me. I didn’t even eat their Halloween candy!

I forgot one tiny little detail about Molly. She notices EVERYTHING. She is the most observant little girl in the entire world. Her ability to spot patterns and shapes in her environment is part of what could put her on the spectrum. She knows when we move things, she noticed when her OT office changed a painting on the wall, she knows where everything is in the house. She sees all. This is a problem when you eat the last of cookies. I wasn’t prepared to answer this question “where are the cookies?”. 

Me: They are all gone

Molly: Where did they go? There were 3 last night in the container. Who ate them? Who ate ALL the cookies?

Me: I did.

I was then faced with the biggest look of disappointment ever. It was like she was sensing my built-in guilt and was taking full advantage of it. I hate that look. It’s the same look I got when I told her that 679 people finished before me when I ran my race. A look of disgust and disappointment in my actions. 

So, I told her we would bake cupcakes. Problem solved.