Threats

We have a time-honored tradition in my house of going to great lengths to keep treats to ourselves.

It goes with the territory in a family of this size. Some boxes of goodies don’t have enough for everyone to get even one.

Often we hide things we like, in the pantry, in the fridge, in the freezer. We hope they won’t be found; we hope we won’t hide them so well we forget about them.

Sometimes we hide them in our rooms. Usually the dogs find the treats then. It’s a real bummer when your dog manages to climb to the top of your desk, smash one of two wedding china tea cups that you own, and pulls your purse down from the highest shelf only to dump it upside down and root out your Godiva stash. Bummer for you and the dog. And then you again, after the vet bill and the carpet cleaning and the sad, sad fact that you are, once more, out of chocolate.

Marking treats as one’s own by licking them and posting a warning regarding said licking happens in my house. That’s usually pretty effective at keeping the poachers at bay.

Lately, they’re resorting to threats.

It’s a total set-up. Leaving your fund raiser cupcakes on the counter where everyone can see them, with a very clearly written, expressly detailed threat on the box.

 

Simple. Clear. To the point. Of dubious plausibility.

But everybody is afraid to risk it.

They think, Will she know if I just lick the frosting? Does she really have them counted? Would she really, really really cut my hair off in my sleep? Well, if she did, she’d get in trouble! Except my hair would still be cut off.

They think, No, she wouldn’t follow through. Would she?

 

They wonder, Is a cupcake really worth it? Do I feel lucky?

One member of the family does.

Score one for Dad.