"I want MARSHMALLOWS!!!!"
These are the words that greeted me Saturday morning. No good morning Mom. No hope you had a good sleep Mom. Not even an I'd like breakfast please.
I tried to patiently (well, as patiently as I could at 6 a.m.) explain that we were fresh out of marshmallows. No, I wasn't going to go to the store, and even if I could, the store would be closed. Like the rest of the world pining for marshmallows, you are going to have to suffer.
"Yes we DO have some - Dad hid them!"
I groggily looked over at my snoring husband, looked back at my eager son, and wondered just when the insanity was going to end.
"Well then, you are going to have to wait until Dad gets up, because I don't know where he hid them" I stated through clenched teeth, hoping the look on my face would discourage further questioning and cause my son to go running from the room. Apparently, I need to work on that look because he still stood there, whining at me.
For the next hour (ok, probably only 3 minutes but it felt much, MUCH longer), I argued with my six year old about why I would not embark upon a search mission for marshmallows at 6 in the morning.
Thankfully he forgot about his request until much later in the day; and didn't resume his demands until early afternoon.
"I don't know where Dad hid them" I exclaimed somewhat exasperated, after trying repeatedly to redirect him to a food that I did know the whereabouts of at present.
At about that point, his older brother walked into the room.
"Geeze Mom, didn't you check behind the TV?" he commented in an 'I can't believe you wouldn't think to look there first' tone of voice.
"Oh Z, that's so funny" I laughed - until I noticed he was looking at me pointedly and trying not to roll his eyes.
So I looked. You know, behind our flat screen, wall mounted TV.
Sure enough, there they were.
I don't even want to think about the thought process that has to happen in order to come up with hiding marshmallows behind a TV. Apparently my husband doesn't either, because he had no recollection of when he might of done this.
At any rate, there were squeals of delight and excitement as I tugged that bag of hard old marshmallows from their temporary home, and handed them over to the kids. They were hard as rocks no doubt about it, but that didn't seem to matter in the least. They still managed to eat them - although it took a fairly substantial amount of time to do so.
I can only wonder about what I'm going to find in a strange place next . . .