The cookie

cookies on square white ceramic plate

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

My father has a favorite story about me. Not sure when it happened, but it probably was around Christmas.

We were at my maternal grandmother’s house with extended family visiting. I ask my mother for a cookie. She says, “No.” So, I go into the kitchen looking upset. My grandmother asks why I look so upset. I tell her about not being able to get a cookie, so she gives me three. I walk back into the living room right in front of my mother to eat these cookies. She naturally reacts as any mother would about my having defied her and asks why. Taking my time by eating and talking at the same time, I tell her: Well, <munch-munch> Nannie gave them to me. <munch-munch> I have to do what you say. <munch-munch> And you have to do what Nannie says.

I totally expect my mother to exact her revenge by having Fleur do this to me.

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