"The Jig is Up"

We were sitting in a  little bakery café in Chatham and I had really been wanting a great tasting baked treat, like a pie, or a scone, or a cookie.  I ordered an oatmeal raisin cookie with my coffee.  Joe wasn’t hungry, he just got coffee.   We sat outside on the patio. It was an absolutely glorious day. The temperature was in the high seventies, it was sunny and we were in Chatham (which will be our new home soon.)  I could not have been happier or so I thought.  I took one bite of my cookie and knew perfection.  It was amazing.  Really.  I had another bite as we chatted about the day.  I took another bite as I slowly maneuvered the cookie closer to me. I nonchalantly took  my napkin and hid most of the cookie that was left.  I wanted it to look like there was hardly any cookie worth sharing. He asked how my cookie was.   I nodded with a head shake as if to say.. “It’s ok.” But inside my head I was screaming “IT IS THE MOST DELICIOUS COOKIE I HAVE EVER EATEN AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO HAVE ANY OF IT!!!!!”   There I said it.  To you.   But not to him.  I knew that we could just go buy another cookie but I could see it going this way.  He gets a bite. He says “that’s a great cookie!”.  I say “want to get one for yourself?”  He says.  “No, I’m not really hungry; I’ll just take one more little piece of yours.”  And there you have it. I’m out 2 bites of the best cookie I’ve ever had.  So I just acted like it was “ok”.  And he didn’t ask for a bite. (and because I made it look like there was hardly any left!)  Whew! I had the whole cookie myself.  And I’m happy about that.  Not feeling the least bit guilty about it. Except tonight when we were talking about these crappy cookies that I bought at WalMart, well then I told him about my transgression. I came clean. I said sorry.  (I didn’t mean it, though) He was good about it.  He understood. (but he must now realize that I can be a bit selfish and wonder about some other things!)

It reminded me of my life years ago.  I had an allowance to work with for feeding my 3 growing boys and their clothes and household stuff.  It wasn’t much of an allowance but I did the best I could with it. I was very careful with extravagant food purchases and usually bought the least expensive, store brand treats. But sometimes, I was just dying for a GOOD cookie! (Like Pepperidge Farms Milanos.) And so sometimes, I would buy a pack for me.  Not for them.  Because they could never appreciate the good cookies the way I do.  My house was always filled with boys, not just mine.  And when I came home from the market, I would beep my horn in the driveway and boys would come down to unload the groceries. One day, a lot of boys came down to unload.  After they brought the bags inside, they began to put them away.  One kid looked up at me and said “Mrs. G?  Your cookies go up here behind the flour, right?”  The “jig was up.”  They all knew that I selfishly bought myself the GOOD cookies.

 I thought I was over that.  I thought I had done much better at sharing.  I thought I was a generous, giving, person now.   Apparently not. The “jig is up.”  I’m not.  Not when it comes to really good cookies.  I could say that the next time we’re in Chatham, I will offer him  a piece of my cookie, but probably not. Maybe someday…