Somehow, the cookies that come from my mom's cookie jar taste better than any other cookies anywhere. Which means that anytime she bakes, I could truthfully recite the above poem. The only thing that limits my intake is the loud "Ummm, Ummm, those sure is some tasty cookies" that echoes through the house with every peek into the alligator's mouth. Then comes the inevitable, "Who's that getting into the cookie jar?" from my dad (he thinks it's funny). What's a girl to do? I take a few at a time and plan stealth raids at times when no one's about. And when the jar is empty, the girls are only too glad to help Grandma fill it again. |
Yes, I hate that cookie jar. No matter how hard you try to hit the button before it starts talking, it rats you out.
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