So the other day after Max and Anna Leita and I had stirred, rolled, baked, and eaten some yummy and messy chocolate chip cookies, Taylor came home. He was happy to see the cookies and was hanging around them in the kitchen. Max and Anna were playing downstairs and I was out of sight for a few moments probably sneaking another cookie myself, and taking a few deep breaths.
This is the tricky part.
So Max came upstairs to the kitchen, got out a pink snack cup for Anna and a blue snack cup for himself (whithout his daddy seeing him) Then snatched a still-warm, gooey cookie for one cup and one for the other. (without his daddy seeing him) And finally strolled right by Taylor with the cookies and downstairs (where we don't take chocolate chip cookies) to share with Anna. After not hearing a single sound from either of our two, not usually very silent children, I ventured downstairs to see if they were okay. They were. Our couch was not. Anna and Max were lounging amidst the crumbs and smears in chocolate chip cookie stupors. Hmmmmm. . . .
After some detective work, I was relieved to know that the cookies-on-the-couch party was not my husband's idea, but rather he was an innocent victim of Max's antics. See, when Taylor saw Max walking downstairs with two snack cups in the correct coordinating colors and a cookie in each, it looked official to him--like something mommy had done, and so he made no move to exercise his parental powers and kept right on eating his own cookies.
Very, very tricky Maxwell.
