Ain’t nobody getting my pie

Today at lunch:

Josh: Oh man, I can’t finish this pie.
Me: You could always box it up and split it between the kids.
Josh: Are you kidding?! I am going to take this home and hide it in the fridge and eat all of it tonight so they will never know about it. Ain’t nobody getting my pie.

Spoken like a true parent, with that pained, instinctive wariness that comes only from many years of having your snacks poached by children. Until now, I only knew this dessert-based PTSD as the look in my mother’s eyes when I ask her for her chocolate covered cherries immediately after she opens them at Christmas time. In a culture full of Pinterest Moms crafting paper-mache worlds for their children out of relentless perfection and unceasing sacrifice (because nothing less will do), I find it endlessly heartening to discover that some of the best, most selfless parents I know just want to be left alone with their damn pie sometimes. Or their chocolate covered cherries. Sorry, mom! ❤


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