Cracker Fit

Being able to communicate has its pros and cons. Today at the grocery store, I bought two bags of popcorn from the boy scouts out front (memories of my brother selling boy scout popcorn compelled me to make a purchase). I stuffed the bags in my purse as Penny and I were on the way in the store. On the way home from the grocery store, I reached into my purse to get some lip balm and had to move the cellophane wrapped bags. Penny heard the bags rustling and started asking, "Cracker, cracker?" and sticking her hand out to the side of her car seat. She had a bag of choo-choo's (Cheerios) already so I told her to eat those. Nope. Not having it. Ok. Ok. I dug out her bottle of Puffs and handed her back two Puffs. The offer was met by a firm "nnnnnno" and pushing my hand away. "Crackers! Crackers!" "But I don't have any crackers, baby." "Crackers, crackers! Crackers? Please?" "I don't have any crackers baby. Eat your choo-choos." And then she started crying. So, I did what any self-respecting parent would do and pulled in to the next convenience store and bought her a 25 cent package of Lance cheese crackers. Oh yeah. She's got me wrapped around her little finger.