Dear Cute Little Girl Scouts Who Live in My Neighborhood and Force Me to Buy Cookies:
Thank you for delivering the multitude of Girl Scout cookies that I ordered from everyone who knocked on my door because I don’t know how to say no; because I have kids of my own and pray that someone will buy some of their crap, too; and because I’m simply a sucker for cookies.
It was so thoughtful for you all to unload these boxes on me just as I started my food lockdown. I know that you think I’m an adult and can control myself and you’re right, ahem, I am. And, I did. I knew exactly how many scrumptious Samoas I sucked down and carefully counted out how many classic Thin Mints I consumed.
Please don’t feel guilty because I have less than two months to squeeze into a bikini on my 38th birthday and your delightful little smiles and cookies have thrown a big monkey wrench in my plan. It’s not like you don’t come knocking every year at the same time. I should know better. No, really I should.
The upside is this problem never lasts for long – because the cookies don’t. As quickly as they come in the door they get gobbled up just as fast. Thankfully, the three other occupants of Wifey’s House have no self-control either so I can easily blame them for eating them all.
I’d love to tell you that I’m through with your cookies and I won’t be ordering any next year but I’d be lying. When you ring the doorbell I’ll cave in, happily, just like I always do and might even order an extra box.
Thanks again for your prompt delivery, for increasing my workouts and for only selling your addictive little cookies once a year.
Winks & Smiles,
Wait! Ladies, have you ever missed your mother-in-law’s birthday? Are you the date keeper in your house? We’re dishing about that at Ask Wifey. I know you’ve got two cents … come throw it in.