No More Cookies For You!

My best friend in grade school, Kathy Sokop, and I created this funny shtick we called “No More Cookies For You!”  We would mostly trot it out on the playground, but really – being apropos absolutely nothing – it could be used anytime, anywhere, for any reason.

Basically the “No More Cookies For You!” routine consisted of one of us coming up behind the other, grabbing that person around the upper arm, and goose-stepping them somewhere, all the while proclaiming in a severe English nanny voice, “You’re in big trouble now, Missy!  No more cookies for YOU!!!”

See??  Totally funny, right?!  It makes you want to fall all over yourself laughing until you get a demerit, doesn’t it?!??

So naturally, I’ve passed this juvenile antic on to my kids.  And sometimes when we’re walking into a store, or returning to the car, I’ll just spontaneously grab them by the arm and march them off (turns out it’s even FUNNIER if the other person is much shorter than you and you can really hike ’em up and make their one leg dangle) all the while proclaiming, “No more cookies for you!!!”

“Why this big trip down memory lane?” you might ask.

Well…Sonny just lost a tooth.  He has braces and said tooth was still attached to its bracket.  Which caused the tooth to endlessly spin around on its wire and get caught in his other teeth every time he bit down.

Being the super fun and creative mom I am, I cut the wire with a pair of toenail clippers.  [Don’t worry.  Sissy reminded me to sanitize them first.  “Gloood illldeal slllweetie,” I said as I licked them clean!  Kidding.  Kidding.  Of course I didn’t LICK them.  That’s unsanitary.  I spit on them instead.]

But once I clipped the tooth out, the remaining wire was very poke-y and took on more of an inner-lip-shredding function rather than a teeth-straightening function.  Which necessitated an early morning, impromptu orthodontist visit.  So early in fact, that everyone in the orthodontist office was just grunting at each other and no one appreciated my joke about being “ready for my orthodontist certificate, Doc!  Just give me a pair of toenail clippers and let me at ’em!” Hardy har har har har!  

After the new (professional) wire install, Sonny helped himself to THREE freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way out of the office.  [Hey!  It’s not a DENTIST office.  It’s an ORTHODONTIST office.  Where they just straighten the teeth.  They don’t care if there are holes in ’em!]  And we were off – trying to make it to school before the first bell!

On the car trip there, every time I looked in the rearview mirror, Sonny had chocolate smeared in some additional place.  [Did I mention the fresh-baked nature of the cookies?  And that they were CHOCOLATE CHIP??  And that as a result they were especially GOOEY?!?]

Me: “Buddy, you have chocolate all over the heel of your right hand.  Please wipe it off.”

wipe, wipe, wipe.  munch, munch, munch.

Me: “What?!  Buddy!  Now you have chocolate all over your KNUCKLES!”

wipe, wipe, wipe, munch, munch, munch

Me:  “AAAAAAaaaacckkkkk!  Now there’s a big glob of chocolate all over your seatbelt shoulder strap.  Wipe it off RIGHT NOW otherwise it’ll get all over your uniform shirt!!”

wipe, munch, wipe, munch, wipe, munch

Me:  “Good Lord, Boy!  There is chocolate all over your NECK.  It looks like a messy chocolate vampire had atchya.  CLEAN. IT. UP!”

WIPE, WIPE, WIPE

At this point we’re pulling in to the parking lot of school.  So yes, literally, the whole ride entailed: 1) him eating chocolate chip cookies and 2) wiping up after the chocolate chip cookies.

And as we’re walking towards school, I notice that Sonny has chocolate SMEEEEARED all over the BACK OF HIS PANTS!!!  (Reminiscent of a scene from Diary of a Wimpy Kid, no?)  The cookie crumbs must have fallen down through his legs and gotten smooshed all over the back of his pants.  But no one’s gonna know THAT.  They’re just gonna think he had a case of explosive diarrhea all over his uniform pants!!!  Acccckkkk!!!!!

So as we’re waiting for the office lady to buzz us in, I’m swiping at his behind with my hand.  To the casual observer, it must have looked like we were engaging in a before-school, ritualistic spanking ceremony.  ‘Cept the ceremony didn’t make his pants much better, and my hand was DEFINITELY worse for wear.

As we’re marching into school, I’m giving him strict instructions to go to the bathroom and clean his pants off as best as he can and then GET TO MATH CLASS!!!

Oh!  And Sonny??  NO. MORE. COOKIES. FOR. YOU!!!

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