Cookie Monster

Pop loves his meals but on his terms. Never too soon and never too late. If I should serve his eats a bit before his stomach is saying, "Now, feed me now!" he will cooperate out of politeness to me, the cook, but will only take a few bites. I envy him a bit because lack of hunger has never stopped me from eating. If it looks and smells good, bring it on! But I have noticed that no lack of appetite ever deters him from ending his meal, small or large, with cookies. As a result, I jokingly call him the "Cookie Monster."

Pop has a very big sweet tooth. Pies, cakes, ice cream, candy, he loves them all. But by far his favorite delicacy is cookies. They do not have to be home made or even Pepperidge Farm quality. They just have to be cookies. So with a pallet that easy to please why bother mortgaging the house on cookies? Actually, the cheaper they are the less I like them and the less I will therefore eat them. Once a week or so I go to my local Big Lots and stock up on the $1 variety and HEB, Texas' favorite grocery, where they have their brand of Vanilla wafers for only .99 a box! What bargains. "These are great little cookies. They can sure be addictive," he'll say as he pulls out one cookie after another. I'm sure glad he is easy to please because "Cookie Monster" is capable of eating a lot of cookies.

"How many have I had?" he thinks to himself. "I don't know. Guess I'll have another one," is his approach to a bag or box of cookies. "When was the last time I had a cookie? I don't know. Guess I'll go to the pantry and have a cookie." I believe it is possible that these continuous cookie breaks could go on indefinitely which has put me in the position of having to take on the role of cookie monitor. Finding appropriate hiding places so that Pop can't get to them has become my challenge. Like a mother cat who will instinctively move her kittens from one hiding place to another to keep predators from finding the nest, I have to relocate the cookies on a regular basis to keep the "Cookie Monster" from finding them and eating himself sick. One day they may be in the pantry behind the napkins. Another day they might be in the condiments cupboard way back in a corner.

Last Christmas, as is my annual routine, I was baking cookies to give as gifts to neighbors. Smelling the rich, sweet aroma come drifting from the kitchen, Pop found the fragrance irresistible. Every couple of minutes I was having to smack his hands away from the cooling cookies. Not remembering that I had just told him 3 minutes ago that these were for friends, he'd be drawn back for another attempt at getting into the fresh batch, over and over again. Finally he began to get a bit irritated with me, the cookie policewoman, for what appeared to him as micromanagement of the feast. In the holiday spirit I didn't want to start a war over these gifts from my heart. It became obvious that I needed to come up with a plan to camouflage the cooling delicacies. Beginning with a sign that read, "Christmas Cookies. Do Not Touch," I discovered that this approach did no good at all. Every time I'd turn around he'd come over and take a cookie totally ignoring the sign. Grabbing some kitchen towels I covered them hoping that "out-of-sight would make for out-of-mind." The towels slowed the cooling process but ended up solving the cookie thief problem.

I guess my experience with the Christmas cookies helped me develop my cunning for cookie hiding because lately I've been pretty deft at finding good places to conceal them. He has not raided the stash for a long time making it possible for me to ration the consumption after he eats. At the end of his meal I will ask him if he would like some cookies and of course the cheerful reply will always be an affirmative followed by, "Boy these little cookies are good. They can sure be addictive."