On Saturday, we took the boys for breakfast at Goldberg's. As we pulled up, I noticed a crowd of animated girls in front of the restaurant. They had signs and were trying to catch my attention.
Well, it worked. It was the dang Girl Scouts. We are deep into cookie season, and up until this moment in time, I had done a pretty good job of avoiding the delicious mouth gift that are thin mints. Or samoas. Or tag-alongs. Or anything chocolate-y.
I dragged the Yoys into the restaurant where we met up with Mr. Yoy. I commented about the cookie situation out front. Big E was on it.
CAN WE BUY SOME COOKIES? PLEASE? CAN WE? CAN WE?
Mr. Yoy gave Big E a $5 and told him to go out front a buy a box.
I started getting the cookie sweats. Those thin mints would soon be melting in my mouth. Giving me surprisingly good breath while sticking around in my back molars for days to come.
Through the window, I watched Big E chat up all the older women.
He proudly strode back to our table with the drugs. I mean cookies.
Except he bought these fake girl scout cookies. A flavor I've never heard of. Savannah may have been smiling, but Mrs. Yoy certainly was not. I was holding back tears.
And then I booed my kid. Not my finest moment, but my disappointment was palpable. If I had an uncooked egg, instead of my plated egg bagel sandwich, I would have thrown it at Big E.
One word: lemon. And don't you dare come to the defense of savannah and her smiles. I tried one. Out of pity. I didn't vomit. But there was no comparison.
There's nothing left to do but cry myself to sleep and dream of thin mints and samoas.
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