The Cookie Monster

I think this is my least favorite part of the year.  As a parent of boys that don't easily tolerate the cold, the string of days spent inside the stuffy house blur together into one chilly, endless day.  As the wife of a teacher, this time is too far removed from winter break to remember longingly and too far from spring break to feel any anticipation. 

And as a person who loves good food and will probably always be on a diet, this time of year means an excess of one thing: Girl Scout Cookies.

When I was young, I was a Brownie but never graduated to full Girl Scout status.  I found that my days were already full with bike rides, night-time games of Capture the Flag and lightning bugs in mason jars.

And no, I didn't grow up in the 1950's; I grew up in Iowa.

Because my schedule was already at capacity, I never felt that I missed out on an opportunity to proudly wear a sash and ascend the scout ranks.  In fact, very few of my friends participated in the organization either, so I have been overwhelmed to discover that every young girl I currently know, in my town or any other in America, is hocking delicious cookies with surprising intensity. 

I've been propositioned at my door more than ten times. 

I've been stopped by aggressive children camped out at the entrance of every grocery store in my county. 

I've even received private messages on Facebook urging me to indulge in just one more box.

Just one more box?  We've already polished off twelve.  And while I have proudly maintained willpower against those blessed Peanut Butter Patties and Thin Mints, no one has embraced Girl Scout cookie time more than Cael. 

"Mommy, when can I sell cookies?"

"Do you want to sell cookies, or do you just want to eat a bunch of cookies?"

"I want to eat all of those boxes of cookies.  I'll be a girl for a while if I can get all of those cookies."

"I don't think that's necessary, Cael.  I'll just get some each year when they sell them, and if you're a good boy, you can have them as a treat."

"They don't sell the cookies all year?"

"No, just at special times."

"Then I want it to stay this time all year."

"Really?  You want it to be cold and snowy all year long?  You don't want to play outside again or go swimming?  Have to wear a coat and hat all the time and not get to ride your cars in the yard?"

He had to think about that for a little while.  Rolling in the dirt in shorts and splashing in a Slip 'N Slide is part of his DNA.  Not the only part of his DNA, apparently.

"But Mom, COOKIES."

Yeah, enough said.  Maybe February isn't that bad.