dookies, dookies, dookies.
That's right, dookies.
I made a horrible mistake in a moment of weakness.
While on our trip down south I shared some dookies (aka cookies) with #3 and now he can not stop asking for the fattening, sugary, yummy, addictive snack.
His answer to pretty much everything is dookies (sadly, so it mine).
Now if I want a dookie I have to sneak into my kitchen, get into my pantry, close the door, and quietly munch in secret.
I guess that's what I've always done, but now I'm mad because I have to, and so does Hubby, and the older dudes.
I don't want #3 to become an outta control, maniacal baby, hopped up on dookies.
I've got to get the sugar monkey off his back before it's too late!
So, despite his request, we will NOT have dookies for dinner (at least he won't, I'm still deciding for myself).
We will have spaghetti, and Texas toast (Hubby put in a special request for this one), and a salad.
And then I will sneak into the pantry and have a dookie for dessert:)
Inspired by Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It.
1 day ago