Confession - Christmas Cookies

I thought she had done a good job.

When I was eight years old, I ran down the stairs in my red pajamas with my sister, Veronica. I'm sure my oldest sister Monika was there, too, but my memory places her as the last to get up for Christmas in our teens, so I think I've placed that back on our childhood.

Our first stop was always, of course, the stockings. We've had the same ivory-colored 18" stockings since we were in Spain, which was a looong time. They're more faded now, but hold small trinkets just the same. That year, each of us received a pack of cookies. I got a whole package of chewy Chips Ahoy! I hugged the red container into my red pajamas, as if they would become a part of me.

Knowing my lack of self-control, I gave Veronica very specific instructions: Hide them. I figured if I knew where they were, I would end up eating them all, so it would be best if they were out of sight, out of mind.

She hid the cookies.

For the remainder of the day I played with my new G. I. Joe's. I forgot all about the cookies as we continued on with our Christmas celebration, and eventually, after the sun bid us farewell, I headed off to sleep, another Christmas under my belt.

I brushed my teeth, climbed into bed, and, as I still do today, I put my left arm under my pillow.

*crinkle*

What the...?

I pulled my hand out with the foreign object in its clutches. ... "Wha?"

Yep. Veronica had hid the cookies alright. Under my pillow.

I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the story. After 10 minutes or so, I went from laying in my sheets looking at a package of cookies to laying in crumbs with an empty package of cookies looking at me.

I haven't bought chewy Chips Ahoy! since, but this year I may have to take a walk down memory cookie aisle.