Excerpt from Ethan's journal...
Tuesday 3/20/07 (age 9):
Grandma Bushong had given us six whoopie pies, and we had three left. [A whoopie pie is two pieces of devil's food cake sandwiched together with something like Twinkie cream in the middle.] After all those sweets on our trip, I wanted to save these fattening treats for awhile, but I didn't want to let them get stale. So I wrapped them up and put them in the freezer.
A few days later, you wanted dessert one evening, and you asked if we could get out the whoopie pies. I replied that I was saving them for a special occasion. Bill snorted but said nothing.
You asked if you could eat yours and I could save mine for a special occasion. I said if you ate yours, I'd want some, and I didn't want any more sweets for awhile. You accepted defeat with a sigh and began rummaging through the freezer for an alternative. "Can I have these Girl Scout cookies?" you asked when you found the three peanut butter chocolate cookies I'd been hoarding.
"I'm saving them for a special occasion," I answered. Bill burst into laughter.
"You're never going to eat them," you complained, and Bill pointed out that they'd been in the freezer for three months now.
"Oh, I'll eat them," I argued. "You guys ate your Girl Scout cookies three months ago. Leave mine alone!"
"For Pete's sake!" exclaimed Bill. "Give the boy a whoopie pie!" I relented, and Bill cut one of the pies in half for you. You savored it after your shower, though you left two bites for me to finish. What a dilemma! I couldn't eat sweets on a Tuesday, yet I couldn't bear to throw out a perfectly good fragment of whoopie pie, either.
My phobia of food wasting won out over my phobia of fat grams. I ate the rest of the pie, and oh my, was it good!