Wheat Thins in My Pocket

If that's not already the title of a country music song, it should be.

"Wheat thins in my pocket... wish I had a rocket...
You keep my picture in a locket..."

I never said I was a songwriter.

I was doing a little (ha) laundry the other night.

I was doing so much laundry that it was PILED up in my floor.

It was so piled up... I was standing on it... like a tiny mountain.

While climbing around on Mount Laundry, I heard a "crunch" sound.

"Great," I thought. "What the heck did I just step on?"

Was it a buried toy? (A broken toy.)

A now-dead bug? (Please, Lord, no.)

A stray piece of cat food? (Because sometimes our cats' food mysteriously wanders off into other places.)


I dug way down into Mount Laundry, and found... a pair of jeans... little boy jeans.

With GREAT fear and trembling, I turned the pocket inside out. I do not need to tell you that I was SCARED of what I'd find.



They say "genetics will tell every time," and I can tell by looking in this boy's pocket that he belongs to me.

Carbs... saved for later.

Who knows when you'll need a little Wheat Thin "pick-me-up?"

I was smiling and dumping them into the sink when I remembered...
We haven't had Wheat Thins in our pantry for AGES.