Usually, I bake homemade cookies every week. This week, I simply didn't have time. Apparently, this was a problem.
As I sat at the computer, doing my work, I heard a strange sound - something that resembled the sound of a siren.
I wondered which member of my household was making it. I guessed either my son or my husband.
It was my husband.
"What's the big emergency?" I asked.
"There are no cookies in the house," he said.
I shrugged. "Sorry. I ran out of time to bake them this week. You'll have to eat fruit."
He shook his head. "We can't have this." He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
When he came back twenty minutes later, he had a bag full of - you guessed it - boxes of cookies. Three boxes to be exact.
"Seriously?" I asked. "Was that necessary?"
He took one whole box for himself and disappeared into his office. When he came out, half of the box was eaten.
I shook my head. There is no doubt in my mind that I live with the cookie monster!