It’s 6 p.m. I’m sitting at the computer still working. I hear a noise, turn my head, and spy the Boy opening the pantry doors and pulling out the drawers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Looking for a snack,” he replies.
“You can’t have a snack. I’m going to fix dinner.”
“What are you fixing for dinner?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s why I’m looking for a snack.”
He’s now upstairs. Lying across my bed. Watching TV. Eating a bowl of Pirate Booty.
I’m still at my computer working.
I still don’t know what’s for dinner.
I think I’ll go find a snack, too.