It doesn't have to be cookies.
Me. WANT. SHOOOOOGARRRR!
Problem is, I don't keep it around. Well, I kindasorta do: I buy Little Debbie and Hostess
but there's nothing to be found in the freezer, the fridge, the cupboards, under the couch cushions...in the trunk of my car on the neighbor's back porch (sorry, Bob--that was me). Ab. So. Lute, Ly NOTHING!!! Not even a crummy cookie unless you count a box of Milkbones.
Elijah: Those are cookies.
Me: No, they're not.
Elijah: YOU call them cookies! All the time, you say: "Elijah! Wanna cookie? Come get your cookie!" blah, blah.
Me: Elijah, those are not "real" cookies.
Elijah: ??? You--you've been lying to me all this time?
Me: OK, let me rephrase that: Those are dog cookies, Eli. Not human cookies.
Elijah: ...whimper, whimper...sniff.
Elijah: I--I'm not human?
Anyway, I settled for a bowl of sugary cereal (though less sugary than I remember from childhood), watched 30 minutes of a Lifetime movie (Tiffany Theissen is married to some peeping Tom and just found out she's pregnant), and finally conked back out.
Seriously, am I the only person who jolts straight up out of a perfectly sound sleep with an uncontrollable sugar craving? Raise hands if you do.
(And throw me a cherry pie)