Ahem. Picture it: El Paso, Texas. 1984
Dad and I were sitting in the kitchen, at the breakfast nook. Actually, it's not a nook per se, more like a counter protruding from the wall with some seats. It's not very nook-ish, really. And well...I'm rambling.
Anyway, dad and I were sitting at the faux nook with an empty bag of chocolate chip cookies sitting between us.
My dad got this evil glint in his eye, like he does whenever he is about to do or say something, well, evil. He grinned wickedly down at me and slouched down so he was about my height.
"Hey, do you want to know something interesting?" he asked me, attempting and failing to rearrange his expression to something more innocent. I was four, not stupid, but hey, I figured whatever evil he was plotting would at least be entertaining. So, I nodded.
Dad took the bag and tipped it over so that all the crumbs and bits of chocolate scattered onto the counter. At first, all I could think of was that if mom saw the mess, she'd kill him, then he got my attention.
"Do you know what that is?" He asked me, pointing to the mess on the counter.
I thought maybe I did, but I decided to see what dad had to say, so I shook my head no.
His grin got wider and he said quite evilly, "That, my dear, is cookie shit."
Well, that put me off cookies for at least a week.
