The wages of thievery came due this morning.
The #1 son sprawled on the long couch, pretending to be uninterested in the wisdom spouted by Hillbilly Mom. He was only on the long couch because I claimed Farmer H's recliner right out from under his butt. Just because absence makes the heart grow fonder does not mean a reunion upsets the pecking order.
HM: "I'm off to The Devil's Playground for a few things. We're going to see The Hunger Games: Catching Fire tomorrow, so I'm getting the shopping out of the way today, while The Pony is bowling."
#1: "Yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah."
HM: "Do you need anything to take back? Pop Tarts?"
#1: "No. Those are on the cutting block. I've been saving them."
HM: "Are you sure?"
#1: "Yeah. Wait a minute! Did somebody eat them? PONY! Come up and see if I have enough Pop Tarts." This is a common tactic for #1. To lay on the couch, and call The Pony up from the basement to go in the kitchen and look for stuff. Or to go in #1's bedroom and bring his phone or laptop. For some reason, The Pony does it. Lately, The Pony has been feeling his oats.
THE PONY: "No. If I remember correctly, there are two packs of Red Velvet, and one pack of blueberry."
#1: "ONE PACK! Did you eat some?"
THE PONY: "Yes. You ate my Soft Batch cookies."
#1: "I'm going to need more blueberry Pop Tarts. Get the big box this time."
Heh heh. The look on #1's face was priceless. What he doesn't know it that while in town, I went in Save A Lot and bought The Pony some more Soft Batch packs. Which I put in the bottom of a bag, and whispered to The Pony to hide them when we unpacked the groceries.
It shouldn't have to be this way. But we have to level the feeding field.