Liberating Cookies

I bake.

It's just one of those things that I do. I find it comforting.

Not all that manly I know, but it appeals to the engineer/geek in me. I mean it involves the mixing and blending of various compounds, and applying heat in order to create something useful.

It's fun.

But anyways, tonight, I baked cookies. Chocolate chip ones. They're gooey, and tasty.

And as usual when baking, it brings out the INTERESTING in my family.

There I was in the kitchen, and the smell was fairly strong as I'd checked on them just a minute or so before.

Then I looked into the living room, and saw my eldest son standing next to my Beloved Wife.

He looks at her, and says, "There was a tasty smell coming into my room."

I could tell that the Beloved Wife was trying her best not to laugh. "I know," she said to him, and then sent him to bed with dire warnings that he'd not receive any tomorrow if he didn't get himself to bed.

So, I'd finished the baking, and cooled the cookies enough to stash them into an air-tight container for storage over-night. You always want air-tight containers, as air is the hardening agent of the baked-goods world.

But I digress. After stashing the cookies, the Beloved Wife and I each ate one and a half of them. I was good, and went off to play on the internet.

Then the Beloved Wife walked into the bedroom (where my PC is) with a cookie in hand.

She glanced at me, and smiled, and said, "I had to liberate it."

"Why?"

"Because it was trapped. I couldn't handle the screams."

"Ah," I said, shaking my head slightly.

"What?" came her reply. "I'm a compassionate person. I had to stop the screams."

This received the raised eyebrow from me. "If you're a compassionate person, why did you decide to mash it into itty-bitty pieces with your teeth?"

Without missing a beat, came her reply: "It's stopped screaming."

I laughed. After all, what can one say to that?