The Cookie Quest

The boy reached up to the cookie jar, trying desperately to keep balanced on his toes while his fingers skimmed the rim of the jar. As he divulged in more than his fair share the day prior, it would be more difficult this morning to scoop out a few in a hurry.

His mother was busy pinning the week’s laundry on the clothesline outside, so he had enough time to get at least one or two before she came back in. He just needed to make sure that every crumb from the corners of his mouth was wiped clean, or he would ruin his chances of getting official snack time later that afternoon.

His left toes were bearing the brunt of his 60-pound frame as his right foot was carefully placed on a drawer handle for extra leverage. As the handle was beginning to loosen from the wood drawer, he had to be very careful not to break it off, or else he would have to figure out a plan to prove his innocence in the mishap.

Of course it wasn’t his fault that his stomach was efficient in digesting breakfast and created just enough space for a mid-morning snack. And by helping himself to the cookie jar he was also allowing his mother to continue her household duties without interruption.

His left middle toes could barely stand the pain much longer. Each time the tips of his fingers felt the corner of a cookie it slipped further down into the jar. It was as if the cookies knew he was being a sneak, and were purposely keeping just out of reach from his tiny hands.

After a few minutes the boy rested back down on two feet and peeked out the back door. There were only a few towels left for his mother to pin up, so he had to swiftly create a new plan. He looked around the kitchen for a tool to assist him in his cookie capture. Unfortunately his mother was the type of person who cleaned up every plate and every kitchen utensil, and tucked them all safely away from child’s harm. This definitely hindered his chances of a mid-morning snack that up until now had become part of his daily routine.

Suddenly he spotted out of the corner of his eye a kitchen utensil sitting on the stovetop. It was something so perfect that he thought perhaps his parents also used it for the same purpose. The spoon-like utensil had teeth all around the sides of it, making it perfect for grasping, and preventing any spillage on the way out. He then remembered that his mother used this utensil when serving spaghetti to the family.

He held the utensil with a firm grip and began fishing for the perfect catch. He had to be careful not to break any cookies or else his mother would surely know something was up. After a few scoops he lifted the utensil back out, and voilà! There were no less than three cookies carefully balanced on the spoked spoon, and like a pro he slowly lowered the spoon towards him without even the slightest waver.

But suddenly, without any warning, a shadow appeared beside him. A presence so powerful that cold chills pervaded his entire being, causing the hairs on his arms to stand at attention. Without looking he knew right away who it was. What was he doing in the kitchen this time of day? As he slowly lifted his eyes up to the shadow, the prize he had worked so hard for crashed down onto the wood floor and crumbled into a thousand pieces. He was left standing there with just the spoon to defend himself.

“What are you up to, son?”

The boy opened his mouth, but his vocal chords immediately went on strike. Only a puff of air escaped from his gaping mouth. Noticing the jar of cookies on the kitchen counter, the boy’s father reached inside and grabbed a handful.

“These cookies are my favourite. Let’s have a quick snack before your mother comes back inside.”

As his father lowered his open hand to him with three whole cookies, the boy realized at that moment just how lucky he was to have a fellow accomplice in his quest for mid-morning cookie snacks. Hmm…what other schemes could he lure his father into? A grin lengthened across his tiny face as he used his imagination while munching on the deliciously scrumptious, mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies.