Friday, January 23, 2009


My children have this strange idea that they miss out on all sorts of fun once they go to bed. I can't for the life of me figure out where they got this notion. I mean, it's not like they've woken up and caught me watching their beloved TV, surrounded by halloween candy wrappers, playing around on the internet.......more than twice.

And I'm a repeat offender, this morning, my son came upstairs with a ziplock bag that used to contain a gingerbread man. Now, in my defense, this gingerbread man had been completely neglected since well before Christmas, so, really, I was doing that cookie a favor. I mean, we'd destroyed his house a long time ago, and eaten the rest of his family. He was the last of his kind. So it was an act of mercy, to eat him, and his gumdrop buttons, after dipping him headfirst in camomille tea.

So my son comes upstairs, and points out, correctly, that the gingerbread man is gone, that the bag he was in was on the couch (next to the remote). I agree that yes, that appears to be the bag that once contained a gingerbread man. He states that he helped make the gingerbread man for Christmas. I agree with that version of the facts too. Then, he turns to me, points at me with one hand, while holding the bag in the other, and with a gleem in his eye that would make Columbo proud he asks, "Did you eat the gingerbread man?"

I cracked under the pressure, confessing everything, throwing myself on the mercy of the cookie court. My son then switched from prosecution to judge and jury. "YOU make more, tomorrow. For ME to eat."

I've been sentenced to Man 1, Gingerbread Man 1 that is...

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