Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar?

Fred, 5

Moving as quietly as I can, I sneak into the kitchen.  I press a hand to my tummy, stopping the sound of grumbling that tries to escape.  I look back and forth.  Nope, nobody here.  Now’s my chance!  I reach up to the counter and grab the cookie jar.  Before I open the jar and take the cookie inside, I stop for just a second.  I know that Mom said I wasn’t supposed to have a cookie because we were having dinner soon, and this is the last cookie! …But I’m so hungry!!  That outweighs everything else.  I grab the cookie, stuff it into my mouth, chew, and swallow it.  No one noticed!  Victory!

Olivia, 7, sister

Walking into the kitchen, I casually walk over to the counter and quietly open the cookie jar.  Pleased with how sneaky I’m being, I reach in to grab a cookie…but there’s none to be found!  Filled with disappointment and anger, I’m about to go complain to Mom when I realize I can’t.  She’d told me not to have a cookie before dinner.  It’s time to do some investigating instead.

Sara, 17, sister

I couldn’t handle it a moment longer.  The temptation was just too strong.  Filled with both defeat and guilty pleasure, I wander into the kitchen and surreptitiously open up the cookie jar.  My sinful act can’t be completed, however, because when I poke my hand into the jar there is no cookie to be found!  Damn it.  Before I have time to consider another sinful option, Olivia races into the room.

“Did you see any suspicious activity in the kitchen lately?” Olivia asks.  “Because someone stole the last cookie from the cookie jar, and I’m trying to figure out who it was.”  “I know it wasn’t you,” she adds, “‘cause you’re on a diet.”

It almost was me, I thought.  I try to keep the guilt from showing on my face.  “Nope, haven’t seen anything suspicious here, but I’d definitely be willing to help you solve the mystery.”  Whoever stole that cookie would pay for the disappointment he or she had caused me…

Mom, 38

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes!” I call across the house.  To my surprise, there is no answer, not even the clomping of feet racing to the kitchen as there usually is.  Only silence.  It’s nice, but ominous.  If it’s ever silent in this house, it means something is wrong and a big storm of issues is about to come. “Anyone here?  Fred?  Olivia?  Sara?”  This time there’s an answer as Olivia skids into the room with Sara trailing behind.

“Mom!  Mom!  Mom!” she exclaims, breathlessly.  “Have you seen Fred?”

“Yes,” I say, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.  “He’s playing upstairs in his room.  Why do you ask?  What’s up?”  Her eyes glow with enthusiasm.  I can tell that whatever is up, she is very excited about it.  It’s quite adorable, the power of a child’s enthusiasm. 

“Well, I went to get the last cookie out of the cookie jar today, but it was gone.  Someone stole it!  So, I’ve been investigating, but I haven’t asked Fred about it yet.”

“Hmmm,” I say, a sly smile playing on my lips, “and why were you getting into the cookie jar after I told you not to?”   Olivia’s face flushes with guilt, and she panics, blubbing out her words incoherently.  I look over at Sara and see a similar flush on her cheeks.  Hmm…I’m sensing multiple guilty parties here.

“I…well…I was just making sure the last cookie didn’t get stolen.  I was keeping watch…like a guardian angel!”  She seemed so pleased with her little white lie that I let it pass.

“Oh, okay,” I say, playing along.  “That explains everything, but your guarding seems to have slipped up a bit, since the cookie was stolen…”

“Yes, that’s why it’s my duty to find the culprit!” Olivia says emphatically.

At that very moment, Fred suddenly runs into the kitchen.  “I can’t take it any longer!” he exclaims.  “I did it, it was me.  I stole the cookie from the cookie jar.  I was so hungry!  I’m sorry.”

I shake my head in amusement.  Never a dull moment around here.  “Come here,” I gently tell Fred, wrapping him up in a hug.  His little body shakes in spasms of little sobs that I slowly begin to smooth away with my tight, warm embrace.  Softly massaging Fred’s back, I whisper, “It’s okay, I almost stole that last cookie, too, so I think we’re all even.”