The other day I had some ice cream with Oreos.
I like to take the Oreos straight from the Oreo box and crumble them right into the ice cream container.
This time, I almost did not have the Oreo part because someone ate my Oreos.
Even though they were clearly mine.
Philadelphia has just arrived from Philadelphia. I walk into the kitchen thinking we are going to get to share some of the vanilla ice cream and Oreo crumble deliciousness.
I turn and reach my hand out for the spot on the shelf where I left the remainder of the Oreos from last night’s ice cream escapade and I am shocked to find nothing there.
“Who ate my Oreos?!” I ask the kitchen.
The living room yells, “Son did. Son ate them.”
Son yells back, “Shut up daughter!”
“What?!” I say. “WHAT?! You ATE my Oreos? All of them?”
“Sorry.” he says.
Just like that.
“Sorry? No sorry.” I say. “Replacement. Now. Replacement Oreos.”
“Mom!” he says. “I am busy.”
“I don’t care!” I say. “You ate my Oreos. Now you have to do the right thing and go get me replacement Oreos.”
“But I was the one who went out last night and GOT you the ice cream and Oreos in the first place.” he says.
This is actually true.
Still, I don’t care.
“GO!” I say.
Philadelphia is not saying anything but I can tell he is a little shocked by my parenting.
I look over at him. I think: Yeah, you deal with this crap for 18 years. But I do not say that. No, I do not.
Instead I shoo son out the door. Since this is Brooklyn and he only has to walk across the street so in only a few minutes he comes back with the Oreos in hand.
“Thanks.” I say and I go off into the kitchen to make the ice cream goodness happen. I decide to bring the whole container out with the Oreos so we can crumble right there in the living room.
Philadelphia says, “Have Oreos always been this good?”
“Yes.” I say.
And we eat more.
Soon it is time to stop so we have some ice cream left over for tomorrow. I put the Oreo package back on the shelf. I decide to draw a little skull and crossbones warning post it with the word NO in caps on it and stick it on the Oreo box just in case.
Son goes in the kitchen.
I can tell he is reading my warning.
I certainly hope he has learned his lesson.
Summerhead 