La, La, La and such. A tale of deception.

This here is my innocent look:

La,La,La,La and such

I was here sitting at my computer. Reading some wonderful posts from some of you wonderful bloggers. Some posts were about sex and reminded me of how I used to like that sort of stuff (sigh). Some were about fine dining and wine and reminded me I probably would like that sort of stuff too (grumble). Some were about children and attitudes and their whining and fits and reminded me of how I lived without that stuff 12 years ago when I was praying to have that IN the house and now it's here and I am blessed, but it's still frustrating (shhhhh). Some were inspirational and reminded me to look in the mirror and scream "Suck it up Nancy!" (grrrowl). Some were random and reminded me of how awesome just the little stuff can be (Giggle). Some were beautifully photographic, some more artistic, some are downright strange and I am reminded of the diversity of people, how beautiful we all are in our own ways and yet we really are a lot alike at the core (Awwww).

But that's not why I am here writing this post..

It's because of what my son did..

Or rather what I did that was cruel to my son..

.. and then was busted on.

(dramatic pause allowing you to center your thoughts
to be able to fully take the rest of this post in....)

(Ohm..Ohhhhm.. Ohmmm.... and such)

I went to the store today. I know that sounds exciting. Since the kids have been home for the summer, food has not had a snowballs chance in hell of surviving more than a day here. I always try to buy somewhat healthy food. If it's not IN my house, I won't eat it at 12Am when the house is quiet and my hands are idle and my mouth is fixated on chewing something, anything, but the empty cardboard cereal box is not working and the rice cakes are even worse than the empty cardboard cereal box and licking sugar packets leads to the visual of a spryly bag of brown sugar tempting me with it's "brown sugary goodness dance" in my cabinet where it is now swinging the Jif peanut butter around like Fred Astaire and jumping off the cans of Veg-all that have been there since 1902, but I won't throw away because: A. They make a damn fine hammer and B. Because if Jillian Michael's ever brings her skinny little toned ass to my house I can point at the can of Veg-all and go ..Eh... Eh,,, whilst nodding my head "yes" to acknowledge that there is indeed nutritional hope for my household after all. And also show her the bag of peas in the freezer (she does not need to know they are strictly "boo-boo" peas right??)

Why hate one veggie when you can hate veg-all!!

By 12:45, my food channel brain always kicks in and I start to think that I can make something fabulous out of one pack of Splenda, a hot dog, Green Olives and a 10 calorie sugar-free Orange Jello cup. I then begin to visualize setting a plate in front of the esteemed Bobby Flay and proclaiming:

What we have here, Chef Flay, is a Caramelized cylindrical meat product that has been sweetly seasoned and pan seared to perfection, I have covered it with a light orange gelatin reduction and it is accompanied by a gently steamed green olive salad with pimento accents for color and texture.......ENJOY.............

I then put my hands behind my white chef coated back and step to the side two paces for the critique of my dish.

I am now ready to receive exceptional praise from Bobby Flay and the other panel of experts for technique, taste and plating. (I plated it on the finest of the Dixie "Summer Fun" paper plate series).

Well Seductress,, I certainly must commend you on this unique flavor profile!!
Now,, take me to your lair and swat my buttocks with this large grilling spatula!

"Oh Bobby!!! I declare!!"

This sparkling review shatters the competition!! (Because I can write anything I would like here as this is my post and my imaginary scenario, but even if it wasn't, surely you wouldn't go tracking down Bobby Flay to confirm or deny the findings,, would you??)

Let us now work on putting all of that fanfare behind us,, to get to this..... I bought a bag of those little powdered donut things that rock the Kasbah. My girls were otherwise engaged when my son brought them to my computer desk and asked with big eyes while using the sign language sign for "please",, if he could have one (I am a sucker for the sign language "please").

"Just one donut and that's it,,, Mommma,,, pleeeease!!!!"

As he stroked my arm, I denied his request due to the fact dinner would soon be served and I am cruel like that. BUT,, he left the donuts there by my side taunting me with their sugary cocaine coating and cute miniature sizing. I looked around, opened the bag, and had just gotten one out and on the path to nom, nom town, when I heard the poundings of little feet. In a flash, he materialized and I had no other recourse but to shove the whole thing in my sweet lady like mouth and hope he didn't want to communicate with me. My mouth is cemented in dough as he comes up and says:

"HEY!!!! YOU ATE'D ONE!!! I SEE'D YOU!!!"

I try to look innocent and smile as powdered sugar flies from my mouth alerting the enemy of my rouse. I chew quickly, choking on my guilt in the form of pastry goodness and follow with a verbal explanation that sounded like this:

"Well Son,, that was the TEST donut, it HAS to be eaten by a professional at least an hour before the others are eaten to assure the quality and safety of the rest of the bag,, I will let you eat the test donut next time, OK?".

He concedes that this is factual.

"Oh, OK Mom!!!" He says sweetly and there is a skipping off into the sunset as I settle into my life of successful mini-powdered donut deceivery.

I think I am cleared. Exonerated. Acquitted. Free.

Until I hear:

"SISTORS,, SISTORS!!!!! I get to eat the TEST donut next time 'acause I'm a 'fessional now, so I get to eat THAT TEST donut!!" followed by happy toddler laughter and I can only assume that a happy little toddler jig also accompanies the happy toddler laughter.

The girls were now on to me. Suspicious. Wary. Skeptical of my character.

The gig was up. Concluded. Over. Exposed.

*sigh*

**Donuts WERE indeed harmed in the writing of this post.

**Names have been changed to protect the innocent.