I made peanut butter cookies this afternoon. That was a mistake, since both my husband and I are weak, weak people…who really like cookies. Especially peanut butter ones. I doled out a few over the course of the afternoon, then bagged the rest up and stashed them in the microwave in the hopes that out of sight really WOULD equal out of mind (which is hit and miss with us, at best).
About half an hour ago, Mark started edging toward the kitchen, looking sketchy. Just as I noticed what he was doing, he caught my eye and put on his “hopeful” look, which is kind of a cross between puppy-dog eyes and a guilty grimace. The following exchange occurred:
Me, suspicious: “What are you doing?”
Him: just standing there silently, contorting his face further to try and make ‘the look’ more convincing, presumably.
Me, laughing now: “Do you have to crap? You kind of look like you’re clenching to keep from crapping your pants.”
Him: “Can we have cookies?”
Me: “We had cookies earlier. We don’t need more cookies.”
Him: “Right, but I want cookies.”
Him, scurrying out to the kitchen, yelling back over his shoulder: “Did you want one?”
Me: “Well, YEAH.”
He came in a couple seconds later and handed me a single cookie, sheltering his other hand against his body, clearly hiding it and the cookies (plural, I’m not stupid) it contained.
Me: “How many cookies do you HAVE?”
Him, looking slightly panicked: “Three.”
And then, with a look of sheer panic on his face, he took the stack of three cookies and LICKED THEM. Then, with a note of triumph in his voice he said, “And now I’ve LICKED THEM so no one else can HAVE THEM!”
I completely lost it – the kind of heaving, uncontrollable laughter where you don’t make any sound and you can’t breathe. He started laughing too, which only served to further feed the hilarity. I seriously haven’t laughed so hard since the pterodactyl incident. Half an hour later, I’m still sitting here having random outbursts of giggles over it.