What color are their hands now?

Two points to anyone who gets the Muppets reference.

I think I might have mentioned that my husband's parents visited last week. This was a fairly momentous occasion, since my mother-in-law, generally speaking, does not travel, and had not flown in something like 15 years. The visit was very nice and I think they enjoyed themselves. It is worth mentioning, however, that there is nothing like a weeklong visit from macrobiotic in-laws to make you want to eat an entire bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies and wash the whole thing down with Diet Coke.

They got here on Wednesday and by Thursday night I was already plotting my sugar orgy. I bought the cookies and a 20-oz bottle of caramel-colored phosphoric acid and aspartame, and hid them in the back of the cupboard and the back of the fridge, respectively. Friday morning I had a midwife appointment, so the babysitter was going to be here and I was going to have couple of hours out of the house. Mwa ha ha ha.

I woke up on Friday at some ridiculously early hour, for the fifteenth or so bathroom trip of the nightg. I was too achey to go back to bed (the hallmark of the tail end of this pregnancy) so went into the dark kitchen--it was just barely dawn--for a drink of water. Then I remembered. Ooh. Cookies. I could have a couple cookies right here in my own kitchen. Everyone's asleep. I got a couple of cookies and took out the Diet Coke, intending to indulge in a swig. The first cookie was halfway to my mouth when, as if he'd popped up through the floorboards, my FIL materialized at my elbow.

He was too polite to say anything, but looked reproachful. Cookies! For breakfast! While pregnant! The horrors! I decided to just pretend I was holding a handful of celery sticks. We chatted innocently about the plans for the day, quite as though I were not clutching a fistful of refined poison, and he continued on his laps of the apartment (morning walk and all). I put the cookies back in the bag. I slid the Diet Coke into my backpack. Then I reached over to put the cookies into the bag. I literally had them on the counter and one hand on the zipper when I heard,

"Imma, what are dose?"

What are YOU doing up?!

"Dose are cookies, Imma!"

Sigh.

"Yes, Barak."

"What are they for?"

"They're for later." True enough. They're for later for ME.

Barak looks at me, not quite accusingly, but... hurt. Surely you're not going to eat cookies without me, Imma... are you?

"You put dem in your bag."

What could I do? I took his lunchbag out of the fridge. I put in a cookie. Barak decided to push his luck.

"Can I have one to eat right now?"

"Barak, do I usually put cookies in your lunch for school?"

"No."

"So, what do you think... do you think you should ask a lot of questions, or do you think you should just enjoy your cookie when it's time for your snack?"

"I sink I should just enjoy my cookie when it's time for my snack."

"I think you're very smart."