|At my house, when these are involved,|
it gets dicey.
My wife is at it again. She recently informed me there’s this rule: ONE chocolate, ONE vanilla. In other words, I am not supposed to take three chocolate-flavoured Girl Guide cookies and leave the vanilla ones for some other poor sucker (aka one of my kids, or her) but
a. Who declared these dubious Girl Guide cookie rules?
b. My wife isn’t a Girl Guide leader and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a copy of their policy handbook so how could she possibly know?
c. Everyone knows that the only difference between the Girl Guide chocolate and vanilla cookies is that one is brown and one isn’t so let someone else eat the vanilla because it’s a psychological thing okay?
d. Er, all of the above (I lost my train of thought.)
My wife does this sometimes. Clearly, she’s never grown up. She declares rules that remind me of that bossy girl on the playground of my youth who would stomp and elbow her way to the top of the pile of the kids and yell “I’m the queen of the castle AND the king of the castle too.” That girl always made me laugh (and to be honest, she made my heart beat a little faster too).
Oh stupid, stupid me. I should have run the other way! Why? Because I want to be king of the castle. At least sometimes. Once a week maybe? By comparison, when I declare rules then pshaw, they never count. No one in my entire family ever follows my rules despite their much-more-sensible nature. See for yourself:
a. Shut the light off when you leave the room.
b. Return my tools to their exact location.
c. If the phone rings and no one answers it then it really isn’t the apocalypse.
d. Dibs on any sort of home-made baking that comes into the house and when that’s not available, I get all the brown coloured Girl-Guide cookies.
Wow. Is this so much to ask?
Apparently so. I just checked the pantry and all the Girl Guide cookies ARE GONE.