Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold Out Of A Paper Wrapper

Have I mentioned that the #1 son has been here all week?

How do you know when your college freshman is home? The special treats you bought for him still sit on the cutting block, and stockpiles of snacks requested by other inhabitants of your Mansion are sorely depleted.

The first day he was home, I caught him noshing on a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie right after lunch. "Those are for The Pony. He eats one every morning."

#1: "Yeah, well. I wanted something sweet after lunch."

HM: "I'm making my grocery list. I guess I need to add brownies. Hey! Pony! Do we need brownies?"

The Pony: "I don't think so. There's almost a whole box."

HM: "Your brother just ate one."

The Pony: "I think we're okay."

#1: "Actually, this is the third one I've had since I got home."

HM: "What? You've eaten three of them in less than 24 hours? At this rate, we'll be out of them tomorrow."

The Pony: "Hey, Mom! I think we need to add brownies to the shopping list!"

Furthermore, the #1 son helped himself to a box of Sour Patch Kids off the coffee table in front of the big screen TV, thinking they were The Pony's, though in reality they were bought for #1 on his last home visit when he had guests. In addition, he snarfed up a Big Grab bag of Salt & Vinegar chips from the same general area that had laid unclaimed for about four weeks. I didn't have the heart to tell him they were not spoken for. But it was the last straw when, after midnight on Wednesday, he ripped open a pack of four Soft Batch chocolate chip cookies that definitely belonged to The Pony, our little steed having specifically carried them down for safekeeping from the marauder.

"Those belong to your brother. I bought them just for him."

"But I love them!"

"You never ask for them. I get them at the checkout at Save A Lot."

"Mmm..." #1 stuffed the last one in his mouth. "And you know what the best thing about them is?" He was a bit garbled due to the half-masticated baked good rolling around in his wide-open trap. "They taste even sweeter...because they are stolen!"

We are all fat and sassy tonight, because #1 has vacated the premises for some carousing. A couple of hours ago, The Pony appeared in the door of my office. I swear. Sometimes he's like Gary Oldman as Dracula, gliding up without a sound or discernible motion.

"Hey, Mom! Look what I've got for a snack!"

It was a blueberry Pop Tart. From the stash #1 has been hoarding to take back to college.

I tip my hat to the young Pony. He's a fast learner.