all that and a bag of chips.

My 42nd child, (who doesn’t live with me and typically costs me the least amount of money), lovingly nicknamed “Century21” for blog purposes, started the day on the hunt for a missing bag of chips. His first problem here is that he doesn’t live with us, so he isn’t familiar with the swarm of locusts that travel with our family to every kitchen we enter. 

Of course Century21 has lost sight of not just any chips, but jalapeño ranch flavored chips. Being normal people don’t eat jalapeño ranch chips, I’m sure he thought they were safe for the night. Poor guy was taken by complete surprise. Again, unfamiliar with the locusts, who would likely eat dirt if you sprinkled a bit of sugar on it first. 

Anyway, after polling everyone in the house, turns out it was that other kid that lives with me, named “not me”. Shocker. That little jerk is supposedly responsible for an awful lot of mayhem around here. Having been an only child, I can’t understand why none of the kids take the opportunity to point the finger at someone else in the house. They have so many choices. The only one I had to nominate was my dog. 

So, no chips and no confession. Having sadly not been born yesterday, and fairly astute, I knew who it was. After some clever interrogation, and several pieces of evidence later, so did everyone else. In that moment, Century21, had his own lightbulb moment and realized why Mr. Gatsby instructed him to label his ice cream before leaving it unattended. Sometimes the labeling helps, sometimes it doesn’t, but it never hurts. 

I hide things in the freezer, mostly because I can. Like most teenagers, none of them actually LOOK for anything. So a few ice cream sandwiches hidden under a bag of frozen sweet corn can go unnoticed for ages. Occasionally I empty a box of ice cream treats and leave the box behind, empty. Then I stash the contents under some vegetables or something. As long as I don’t stash anything under the bagel bites or chicken nuggets, I’m certain it’s not going to be found by anyone other than me. 

I digress… After having been called out on snagging the missing chips, we get to encounter the wrath of Sneaky Sweet Tooth… again. This time in the form of refusing to go on our family outing. I’ll never understand the self punishment route. I can respect stubborn as much as the next guy, but if you’re trying to prove a point and stand your ground, at least do it at the expense of the OTHER person. Refusing to go on a fun outing means nothing other than a guarantee of no drama or excitement that would embarrass most, less seasoned and less medicated people, unlike myself. It’s no different than the silent treatment routine. Oh. My. Please. Whatever you do. Don’t provide me with hours of silence. Don’t spare me relentless teenage nonsense about how oppressed you are. Anything but that. While you’re punishing me, make sure you don’t send me to my room to be alone with my thoughts. *insert eyeroll here*

Hubby and I very plainly let Sneaky know we aren’t letting her stay behind. Obviously disgruntled, she complies and fights as hard as she can in the car, against having a good time. Meanwhile, during a brief moment of blissful silence, I hear the word, “circumcision,” coming from the backseat. Sassy Britches, aka, Lil Miss Dippy Eggs, and Cohort, are deep in conversation about what a circumcision is and what the results of said procedure are. I’m sure, with as deep as they were in conversation, they didn’t realize how loud they were. Because I can’t possibly pass up an opportunity to entertain myself, I ask Sassy Britches to explain herself and the procedure. Shockingly, this time “not me” wasn’t around and Cohort was very quickly thrown under the bus and nominated to explain it to me. In the next seat over, there is Daytime Emmy Nominee, a very vibrant shade of red, and using every bit of energy she has to not laugh. It was nice to see her exhibit self control, even if it wasn’t really for the right emotion at the right time. (Baby steps people.) At any rate, that provided me with a good 20 minutes of entertainment, and took the edge off for Sneaky Sweet Tooth, who recovered nicely for the remainder of the outing. Very thankful and proud of her for the recovery there. 

No chips, but a lesson for Century21 about trauma food insecurity. Sometimes you win a nasty bag of chips, sometimes you don’t.