Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Snack Attack

The baggies are everywhere, under chairs, wedged behind toys, stuffed into wads of clothing. Their contents spill out onto the floor or chairs or counters; pretzel dust, dried raisins, cheerios. It's my bane.

The Boy, like all tots his age, requires snacks. His have consisted primarily of those pretzels and raisins. He carries a baggy of them everywhere, always. Sadly, he puts them down. He gets distracted. He forgets. This is usually followed by, "Daddy, I need pretzels raisins, please." "Where's your baggy?" "It lost." Great. If I'm lucky I can round it up, but all too frequently it is mystappeared for the hour or so it takes before the dog finds it and carb loads.

Yesterday, was a moveable feast for the brown dog. The Girl has stepped up to her own baggy, lest a war break out over the Boy's. She is less a baggy-loser than a spiller. The dog had a field day chasing the girl from room to room faster than I could keep up until that canine stomach had had enough and launched its contents onto the rug. MMM, thanks. "Daddy, the doggy threw up. Right here."

I suppose all those pretzels are better than the fat-laden goldfish tossed at so many toddlers, but I can't help feeling that I have a pair of barflies in the making. All those baggies weigh on my conscience as well. But what's a dad to do.

1 comment:

Steve said...

My MIL -- who as a 67-year-old most certainly was not raised on baggies full of snax -- employs them by the dozens to keep anything and everything in her life orderly, assuming said object will fit in a baggy. So you're never too old to use oodles of unrecyclable, rarely reused plastic! (And she about had a stroke the one time we grocered together and I *didn't* put my produce in plastic bags! Because, you know, it'll become contaminated by the cart and/or if it touches other produce.)