Damn dog.

I've been craving cookies for a couple of weeks now. Not just any cookies, but my mom's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. They are devine, with just a dash of nutmeg that gives them a unique flavor.

It seems like whenever I've had time to make cookies lately, the kids aren't home. I don't dare make cookies when the kids aren't home. We have a tasting tradition. I mix the First Stage (butter, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla) and we all taste. Mmmmm. Then I mix in the Second Stage (flour, baking powder, cinnamon, salt, nutmeg) and we all taste. Mmmmm. Finally I add the oatmeal and chocolate chips and we taste some more. When I was a kid and my mom would make these cookies, my sister would get all bent out of shape because she said my tastes were so big they threw off the recipe. Pfffft. I think the cookies ended up tasting just fine. And so we continue the tradition of ginormous tastes after every stage.

Saturday morning the kids were home and I had some time to make cookies. The dough was delish. I made just over 4 dozen cookies. I had them spread out on the kitchen counter cooling when we headed out to soccer games.

When we returned home two hours later, my mouth was watering for a cookie. The kids each had one before we left, but I was too busy pulling soccer gear together to eat one. Grateful Dad hollered at me from the kitchen asking if I had already put the cookies away. No, I left them sitting at the back of the counter to cool completely.

As I walked into the kitchen, Grateful Dad had a quizzical look on his face. He looked at me, then looked at the counter. I looked at him, then looked at the counter. We looked back at each other, then both looked at the dog.

The dog lowered her head, drooped her ears, started slinking to her bed where she exposed her belly with a pathetic, "don't be mad at me" look on her face.

The cookies were gone. All four dozen of them. Well, all but two. Two that I'm sure had been licked by a doggie tongue. The paper towels they had been cooling on were barely disturbed. The only evidence I could find was one stray crumb on the dining room floor. That, and the horrendous gassiness from the dog.

I can't believe she ate four dozen cookies and I didn't even get a one.

Damn dog. I'm still craving cookies.