FanStory.com - Am I a bad parent or a glutton?by T B Botts

I recently received a care package from one of my Fan Story friends. It contained some really, really good brownies. No, they weren't laced with pot, if that's what you're thinking. They were just very tasty. When I wrote the sender to say how much we enjoyed them, I lamented the fact that my wife and I ate them all ourselves. I would have been happy to share them, but for some reason or other, the usual people we would normally share them with were all gone. It runs in my mind both my daughters were out of town, and my neighbors were still in Louisiana. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I don't think you can freeze brownies can you? Anyway, the bottom line is, we ate them all. I'm both ashamed of myself and pretty full.

I was reminded of a time when I was living in Hoonah. My oldest daughter, Jennifer, was an elementary school teacher there. She had a habit of dropping by unannounced every other day or so. I had no problem with that, we always enjoy her company. However, I think that she sometimes forgot that she no longer lived at our house. She had her own house and family. If there was mail on the counter when she came in, she would walk over and start leafing through it. It wasn't a big deal, but it was kind of strange. She also felt free to help herself to whatever food might be in the refrigerator or on the table, like fruit or perhaps brownies or cake. That's fine. Sometimes she'd ask, and sometimes she wouldn't. I usually didn't mind.

One day my youngest daughter, Autumn, was visiting from Wasilla. She had purchased some fun shaped erasers for Jen to give out to her class. She also brought with her a box of Jelly Belly Bernie Botts jelly beans. These weren't ordinary jelly beans though. Along with flavors like jalapeno, liquorice and popcorn, there were gross flavors like baby wipes, boogers, and dog food. Who thinks of this kind of stuff? Anyway, we all knew that Jen would be stopping by, so we put the jelly beans in a crystal dish right on the counter where Jen couldn't miss them. She came in, started talking to Autumn, thanked her profusely for the erasers and then spotted the jelly beans.

"Heeeyyy! Jelly beans! I love jelly beans."

She went to the dish and reached in. As she was lifting a handful to her mouth I burst out laughing. Of course she got suspicious and wouldn't eat them. I wish I had some self control.

A few months later I figured enough time had passed that we could try to fool Jen into trying something else. We had a dachshund at the time and had bought him some Liv-a - snaps dog treats. Knowing full well that Jennifer would be coming over, I put some of the treats in the same crystal dish I'd utilized before, assuming she would think that the treats were little chocolate bites. True to form, she came in, saw the dish and headed for it. She picked them up and looked at them and I made up some lie about some new candy we'd found at the store. I was watching her intently as she raised the treats to her mouth, but once again, my lack of self discipline defeated my little trick. My hysterical outburst warned her off. Darn it.

If you think that's bad, here's the real clincher. One winter day I put the skills that I had learned in Home-Ec class to work. I really like custard pie, so I decided to bake one. I got down the recipe book and first made the crust.(I'm too cheap to pay four or more dollars for a frozen crust) Then I made up the eggs, sugar, milk and vanilla and poured it into the crust. While it was baking, the whole house filled with the most pleasant aroma. It was like walking in to your grandma's house. When it was done, I didn't even wait for it to cool. My wife and I each had a piece, and frankly, it was heavenly. I left it sitting on the stove top to cool and went in to do something. Later, while we were watching TV, I heard the distinct sound of a car door closing out front.

" Rats! It's Jen! I think she has someone with her too."

That was unacceptable. I quickly ran into the kitchen and retrieved the pie from the stove top and scurried into the laundry room as the sound of people scampering up the steps reached my ears. I closed the door and acted like everything was normal.

I know it sounds petty and selfish, and in retrospect, I suppose it was, but that pie was so good.
Anyway, she was never the wiser... at least until I did a blog post about it. She was in the habit of reading my blog, so the jig was up. I did make another custard pie at a later date, and she got to eat some of it, just not that one. So I ask you, am I a bad parent, or a glutton or perhaps both?