Sneaky, Sneaky

Fry2k / stock.xchng
Fry2k / stock.xchng

Let’s take a moment to talk about a little promoted parenting skill – hiding things from your children.

 

Back in the early parenting days, where things were rosy and I didn’t want to plug my ears to avoid waking up in the middle of the night when the baby cried, I promised myself I would be the kind of parent who always told their child the truth. I would answer the hard questions with honesty and no topic would be off limits.

 

This was before I learned the depth of despair that can come over you when your child says:

 

“What’s in your mouth, Mommy?”

 

Oh! How I long for the opportunity to finish a bag of potato chips without sharing! Or keep my own pack of chewing gum and not be put to the test with suspicious questions from the peanut gallery of children I’ve produced.

 

Lizard and I have become gifted at hiding our food choices, particularly in the car. We smuggle pieces of Twix to one another like we’re performing some covert drug deal, hoping no one squeals and we don’t get caught with the contraband.

 

They catch us, though. They see our mouths moving, masticating food, and then come the chirps from the back seats: “What’s that?” “Can I have some of that?” “What’s in your mouth?” “I want some!”

 

They don’t even know what we’re eating, but they assume it’s good. And usually… they’re right. It’s the good stuff that adds pounds to our middles and gives us delirious sugar shock. It’s the stuff they only get as a treat or if they finish all their food and it’s a dessert night.

 

They know.

 

And we continue to hone our stealthy skills, hoping that one day, one blissful day in the future, we’ll be able to eat our treats without coming under attack…

 

Do you have to sneak food from your kids?

 

 

Facebook Comments

One thought on “Sneaky, Sneaky

  • June 15, 2013 at 12:34 pm
    Permalink

    Haha! My youngest has a nose like a bloodhound. Even if she wasn’t present for my consumption of said contraband treat (usually chocolate), she can smell it — on my breath, in the air, from the wrapper in the trash can. I can’t win! 🙂

    Reply

Leave a Reply to PlainJane Cancel reply

%d bloggers like this: