Cookies

Steve recently purchased ten boxes of Girl Scout Cookies from one of his Sunday School kids.

Ten. You know they're $3.50 a box now, right?

Ten boxes.


The difference between me and Steve, who I love dearly and who cannot really be blamed for helping out this little girl and bringing cookies into our home, is in our interpretation of the situation.

What ten boxes of cookies means to Steve: We will have cookies for a long time.

What ten boxes of cookies means to me: I will eat ten boxes of cookies within the next two weeks. If I control myself.

I mean, is there anything in the world quite like a Samoa?

I do not, as a rule, purchase things like cookies or chips or ice cream. Or pastries or cakes. Or anything, really, that a normal person might think of as sweet, unless you count yogurt or craisins. I like to keep this stuff out of my house because this stuff in unhealthy, but mostly because I do not have the will power to ignore the stuff. I will deny my children chips and then somehow consume the entire bag during an episode of Glee.

Steve, on the other hand, is an eater. Is will sit down and eat a big huge meal. But he is oddly unmoved by cake, cookies, or chips. He can let a cake sit there in the fridge for weeks, let cookies wither in the cupboard. And then, three weeks later, he'll go "where did the thin mints go?" and look at me. And, really, they were just SITTING THERE! If he had really wanted them he would have eaten them by now, darn it!