Shhh. Everyone’s asleep. Creep my way in the dark. Snap on the little flashlight. Make sure the stairs don’t creak. Open the fridge. What looks good? I’ll have some of this and some of that. Sit at the kitchen table and savor the late night snack. Ah, I feel better. Now I can sleep. Creep back upstairs and slide into bed. Don’t jerk the bed covers so no one is the wiser.
Just me. No one’s home yet. Kids are at after school sports. Husband won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll just see what’s for dessert. Don’t want to cook anything now. Too much work. What’s in the cookie closet? That’s what Timmy calls it. I don’t want cookies. What’s that over there? Chocolate chips. Glad we have some left over from the cookies we made last week. I’ll sit and relax and have some of these with my tea. Oh, maybe I’ll have some cookies, too. It’s wonderful to be so private. I don’t get any time to myself when everyone’s home.
No matter what meal I am preparing, I always swipe a little bit of what I’m making. I would hate it, though, if someone saw me.
When I was little, I had to sneak sweets. My mother didn’t normally allow sweets in the house. We had to eat fruit, mashed-fresh-packaged. Well, you get the idea. But when company was coming, my mother always made sure there were sweets for the guests. Then and only then were we allowed to have some, too. My little brother and I had this secret ritual. He would stand guard while that day or the day before I raided the guests’ sweets. My brother made sure no one was coming, and I double-checked the sweets so they looked untouched.