|This is the oozing-in-frosting Easter|
cookie, on Easter, in all its fresh glory.
|Not what one would expect when pulling|
out a dining room chair.
Thank goodness I
opted to wash the tablecloth.
It took me a minute. My mind: 'Huh? How . . .?' Then life becomes clear again and I remembered that I am the mother to Tank: my third son who weighed in at 10 lbs 3 oz BEFORE his due date, and who hasn't stopped ingesting anything since that day.
Moments after he was born, they took his blood sugar and said they needed my permission to give him a bottle. I had birthed a few boys prior to this monster-sized newborn, so I was like, 'What? I plan to exclusively breastfeed. Bottle . . .?' The nurse assured me it would be fine, but that he needed a bottle. Of course I wanted to remind her that they had starved me all day, and I was pretty sure my blood sugar was low too. What Tank wanted was more than a bottle or a breast. He wanted a cheeseburger.
When we took him home, all he did was nurse. Literally. My poor body was tricked into thinking I had just birthed a litter, not a baby. My milk came in ten fold, and for the first time in my life I made Dolly Parton look like she wore a training bra. I could not button a shirt. Don't worry, I have no photos to back this claim up. You will have to trust me, or choose not to ever imagine my misery. Either way.
Anyway, my 16 year old son swiped the remnants of the Easter frosting (with a dab of cookie attached for shits and grins), and stashed it on a chair in the dining room so he could go back and enjoy it at his leisure. Or whenever his blood sugar dropped.
I guess he ended up forgetting about it. Maybe he was in a bit of sugar shock and it erased his memory, because there was still cookie left on the plate thing. Typically my dining room 'finds' are empty plates and dirtied, discarded silverware. Jealous?
Yes, we do have an ant problem. Go figure.
Lol. The joys of motherhood!
I am laughing so hard at so many things.
Your Easter find in June; oops, someone lit my hair on fire; he wanted a cheeseburger.
You funny, girl.
I would have paid money to see Tank eat the elusive Easter cookie in June.
I have a dining room table with stacks that could hide a giant cookie. Not chairs so much, because we use them on a regular basis. Still, I find it hard to imagine all four of us forgetting about the existence of a treat in the house.
Good luck with the ants...
You can put NOTHING past him. What kills me is his refusal to drink water from the tap while in Vancouver insisting that it tasted all chemical-y. I was drinking the water - it was FINE! If he has no issue eating ANYTHING, why the worry about weird water? He is a piece of work. Just wait till I get going on my Vancouver posts - there will be a lag 'cause I have a few pre-dated pieces ready to go so I can get back into the swing. Got back last night. On my third load of laundry, worked out this am, and then hit the grocery store. Reality setting in.
My mother is always shocked at what my boys do. She raised 2 boys, but never a smelly sock discarded in the kitchen or pizza under the bed or Easter cookie things tucked under the dining room table on a chair. My guys are a breed that my side of the family is unfamiliar with.
I have found empty ice cream containers hidden under the dining room table with a spoon left in it. Coach and I are always like: if they just threw the evidence away, we would never realize what they had eaten on the sly. Mind blowing. The ants retreated after a good spray and a massive pantry sweep out.
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