crinkle crinkle…

I sat in my office, reading over the client ready rough draft of a Will, when Monkey asked me for more veggie chips. I answered with an exasperated “No!” as she had been told nearly a dozen times in the preceding twenty minutes that dinnertime was nigh and no more snacks could be enjoyed. Especially since dinner was hot dogs, and therefore not remotely healthy. Today Mommy was really phoning it in.

She sighed and removed herself from my rather grumpy presence and I went back to reviewing secondary contingent clauses.

crinkle crinkle

How do I password protect this thing before sending it out on the internet?

crinkle crinkle

Save as… Export….Security….C’mon where is this stupid thing? Wait a min….. what is that sound?

crinkle crinkle…. crunch

“Monkey!” I yelled, as I leapt off my office chair and rushed to the kitchen, preparing to confront my little chip theif red handed!

As I turned the corner I found Otter, standing on top of the kitchen stool, bag of veggie chips in hand. He was munching away happily, carefully choosing a chip at a time, thrilled he had mastered the art of junk food procurement. When he saw me he smiled, and kindly offered me a chip. Monkey came around the other corner to see what I was yelling about and she and I giggled as we watched Otter ruin his dinner, and gain a little independence.

I guess it’s time to stop automatically assuming Monkey is the culprit, and to stop leaving meat cleavers on the countertops.

One thought on “crinkle crinkle…”

  1. Yeah, no more meat cleavers.

    I remember finding Seth sitting on the dining room table eating his brothers dinner that I had just set out… the little buggers will get into anything.

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