Grown up cookies

*beep*

Houston, we've got a problem.

Mags, being her father's daughter (as opposed to the milkman or the UPS guy who is not bad looking but really yo've nothing to fear, Husband,) really really loves cookies. Really. Specifically, chocolate chip cookies. Mmmm, who doesn't?

And a few days ago she discovered a bag choc(olate) full of them in the freezer. Much excitement ensued. "Can I have a cookie, daddy? Just one, because if you have too many, you'll choke!"

I'm sure you are asking yourself, hmmm, how is it that in this particular household that an entire bag of cookies survived long enough to actually be frozen?

Two words: grown-up cookies. Cookies not intended for toddlers. Cookies not consumed by my husband. 'Mama's little helper' cookies. Cookies to give to BC for entertainment value when going out in public. Green cookies.

Yes, *those* cookies. Mags has found my stash of, ummm, mood stablizing cookies. Which is bad. Because while today she is grand about not going places or doing things she knows she's not supposed to, that day will come sooner than I'd like, and i'm going to have to find a different means of storage. Or buy a paddlock, which won't look suspicious at all.

As it stands for right now, Mags seems to be *some*what ok with the 'grown up' cookie explanation. Although I don't expect that to last terribly long; just last night she started in on the "But I'm growing up, see mama? See how big I am? Can I have a cookie now? I'm big, see?" So I think the plan is to just bury them deep into the recesses of our drawer-style freezer where she can't get at them (believe me, this is safe. Husband isn't capable of navigating the freezer these days. Every polar expidition to the south of our fridge ends up in a rant that goes something along the lines of: "Dammit, there's no room in here! Oh great, the potatoes are ate the BOTTOM of the drawer?! Now I've got to unpack the whole thing! Sonofa$@!@#!! Something just fell behind the drawer and I can't close it! I give UP! You! YOU need to eat more out of the fridge!" See? Definitely toddler-proof.) Then, after they are safely tucked away, we sneak another bag of NON-intoxicating chocolate chip cookies into the freezer, provide them with a flourish ("Taa-daa!"), finish the bag so there are 'none left, honey!', et voila. Problem (temporarily) solved.

And with this post, I officially drive the final nail into the coffin that bore the chances of my family ever reading this blog.