The smell of fresh baked cookies was hanging in the air. We were playing outside, we could smell it from a mile away and it drove us crazy. I don’t think there is anything more tempting to a child than a warm, fresh-baked cookie.
“I could go in the kitchen and get one,” I thought, but I knew it wouldn’t work. My Grandmother had eyes everywhere and she could sense things. I don’t know how she did it, but she always knew when I did something wrong.
She never laid a hand on me, but I knew she could -and would- if I wouldn’t behave. I had never gotten a spanking but I had heard about it, and I had seen one -I didn’t want to risk it.
Later on, after dinner, she would hand me a glass of milk and a couple of cookies, but that knowledge didn’t help me. I wanted one now.
I was the worst cookie thief on this planet, I could never hide my tracks, left evidence behind everywhere I went. My Grandmother had the ability to make me talk with just one look; it always worked. She raised her eyebrow, looked at me, and I started confessing.
“I will show you how it’s done,” a neighbor boy said, and I just looked at him. We all laughed, we knew how to steal cookies, but we also knew it never worked. Adults are evil, they count the cookies, that’s why they always know.
He waited until my Grandmother had left the farmhouse, then he walked in. We all felt sorry for him. He would get caught, and he would be in trouble.
A while later he came out, holding a bunch of cookies with both hands. We sat down on the grass and shared our treasure. My Grandmother liked the boy, we all did, and now we would never see him again. He would be killed later on, we just knew. There was no way my Grandmother would not find out.
“You never steal just one cookie,” he explained. “You always take a whole row, this way everything looks normal and they don’t know. ”
What a genius this kid was! He was right, cookies were always laid out in rows of 10 or 12 , they were lined up like little soldiers. They were spread out to cool until they got the final touch. That’s why I always got caught. I only took one or two cookies, and the empty spot I left behind, could be seen by a blind man.
“You mean we can steal more than one?” we asked, and we all smiled. Life would be better from this moment on, this was cookie heaven.
My Grandmother didn’t say a word about it at dinner. There were no raised eyebrows, no Spanish Inquisition. It had worked; I was in awe.
Years later, when I was much older, I confessed and shared my knowledge about How-to-steal-a-cookie, with my Grandmother. She was sick and fragile then; she listened to me, and I saw her eyes watering, she was laughing so hard. “This is genius,” she said, and we both smiled.
I was a good kid; I was good in school and didn’t mess up much but I was a cookie thief, still am until today, ask my friends, they know. 🙂
[…] first crush was Uwe, a neighbors boy. He is the one who taught me to steal cookies the right way, and he taught me to fight like a boy. I was 6, and he was almost 12 -double my age. […]
In so few words. Astonishing!
Thank you
Great post!
Reblogged this on surrender884.
What a cute story. So glad you all survived the theft! I love your grandmother – it’s clear she made the world a better, kinder place. 🙂
I think we needed and helped each other. She took me in when my parents were unfit drunks, and I helped her to overcome the grief over my Grandfather.
She was a tough woman with a heart of gold. She made my world a better, kinder place!
How lovely that you filled holes in her heart too. A really special bond that comes through in all your posts about growing up with her.
Of course you were always caught … you were the only child! My siblings and I had each other to blame 😉
I wonder whatever happened to that boy. It sounds like he had a LOT of street smarts 🙂
I tried to blame the dog a few times, that didn’t work very well. He didn’t cooperate the way I hoped he would.
ha! That reminds me of a time when I was a kid and we actually caught the dog stealing chicken legs off the BBQ!!
Love it. The schemes kids manage to pull. One of my nephews was adept at stealing sweets…forbidden foods (until granted permission of course). My sister’s best “stealing” story about him was a lot like yours. He was four and emphatically forbidden from anything in the cabinets above the kitchen sink. One evening, while my sister was away and my brother-in-law was in charge, he quickly scampered out of the kitchen just as my bro-in-law walked into the kitchen. My nephew called out behind him, “Don’t worry, Daddy! I’m not taking any Cokes!”
My bro-in-law, chuckling, crept into the guest room where my nephew was “hiding.” Bro-in-law peeked around the bed, and there, tucked in a corner of his own little universe, was my nephew surrounded by cans of half-drunk cola. He was in mid-gulp when my bro-in-law caught him, and he was so startled, he dropped the can he’d been drinking out of and then grew puffy-faced-enraged at my bro-in-law for having “discovered” his little secret.
Little guy still doesn’t understand how he got caught.
Love it, thank you for sharing.
Great story
I am glad you liked my childhood anecdote. Thank you for stopping by. 🙂
so clever!! sometimes the obvious is not so obvious 🙂
So true
Cute story, a think I know a few cookie thieves 😉
I am sure you do but I am afraid they all might be much younger than me. 🙂
Thank you for stopping by my little blog.
He,he. That’s just great.
Brilliant… oh when we are little – we can’t hide our tracks, but we think we can. – enjoyable
Thank you for stopping by. I am glad you liked my childhood memory.
Amazing
Thank you for stopping by. I am glad you liked my childhood memory.
Like? I love it. What a great character study. Several, in fact. Of you, the boy, and especially, in so few words, your grandmother.
I am glad you liked it, this memory is very dear to me.