So pretty much Dad brought home a ginormous box of peppermint patties sometime in the winter, which naturally sent me into a fit of excitement, and proceeded to inform me that we could NOT have them because they were for some something at work. Or something.
It was horrible.
Every time I went to get something out of the fridge in the garage I would come face to face with a giant box of heavenly goodness that was off limits. It just sat there. Teasing. Saying “Nah nah nah nah you can’t eat me.”
It’s pretty bad. For a while I was having trouble sleeping at night knowing they were down there.
So now, after all this time, they’re still in there. So I’m going to go ask Dad if I can have them since apparently “work” doesn’t need them all that bad.
I’ll let you know how that goes.
The quidnuncs that love me most.
Because the ones that love me most obviously comment the most.