Thursday, January 27, 2011

Teething Biscuits: The Dirty Truth Exposed

Afternoon Readers,


I might as well warn you, I’m riding a coffee-induced waive of energy and I’m ready to sling some hard-hitting investigative journalism at your craniums. Ok…that came across a little strong, and maybe it’s not as hard-hitting as previously suggested, but it concerns everyone: moms, dads, kids, and most importantly, people who desire to keep their snowy-white Pottery Barn couches and/or Anne Taylor Loft dresses clean. If you fall into anyone of those categories, read on for the dirty, slimy truth. Move over Ted Koppel...I've got this one.

     It all started with taxes. That's right, I relish tax season like a wolf loves a lame chicken. As January 1st rolls around each year, I begin to salivate and organize. I stack my documents, brew large vats of coffee, and put together massive play lists to get me into the spirit of the season. Most people think I'm over-zealous, but can you honestly tell me you don't enjoy getting that check in the mail that whispers seductively, "Sssspend me."
     This year, I was even more excited about claiming two dependent babes on my return, and snatching back some of my hard-earned cash from Uncle Sam's wrinkly hands. Unfortunately, those two dependents preferred I not do taxes at all and, instead, climb my legs like small mountain goats. If you're wondering, mountain goats and taxes don't go together...so I was left trying to figure out what to do. And then it came to me.
     I ran to the kitchen and pulled out the Nature's Best wheat teething Biscuits I'd picked up the night before. Because I'm super smart and have my degree, I'd finally put two and two together and figured out that my kids, are in fact, teething. So much genius in one brain is tough. Anyhow, I grabbed a couple and headed back to my offspring, ready to present my peace offerings.
    My children, delighted with the new "cookies", sat happily gnawing on them, only to look up once in a while to give each other  looks and grunts of approval. Success! Like a jackrabbit, I flew back to the computer and started filling in numbers. Peace was restored, and I was back in the flow. Figures were entered, documents were flying, and my euphoria abounded as I realized I was nearing the end. With a giant smile on my face, I turned my head to check on the biscuit progress being made. Oh Crap..
     My babies were gone, and in their places sat two slimy little space creatures. They looked like my kids, but had a very distinct layer of wheat-colored goo covering them from head to toe. One of them looked at me and said, "Maaaa?" Oh goodness, it was talking...and it needed a bath.
     How did this happen? WHERE on the box of those damn biscuits did it say: Caution, adding baby spit to enclosed wheat-based product will result in sloshy rivers of tan grossness. Do NOT open box unless you intend to pick your child up with tongs and deposit him/her in a tub of soapy water. Feed at your own risk. Thank You.
     Well, it didn't. And because of that lack of warning, everything within a six foot radius was covered in sticky wheat biscuit. I know, because I spent the rest of the afternoon scrubbing it off of all my worldly possessions. My couch now smells like a pastry shop. Could be worse. Everything could smell like poop. Sad that I measure my level of success by poop...oh well.

Until Next Time Readers!