Mikey blames me (well, more like my family) for his new-found love of sweets. He claims that before we got married, he hardly touched them. Then he married into my family: the dessert-every-night-is-really-living family.
And maybe his blame is rightfully directed. After all, I am the girl who has vivid memories of stealing the syrup out of the cupboard and while laying on my back under my parent's bed, would proceed to squeeze the contents of the bottle into my mouth. I'd fill up my mouth with syrup. Swallow. Repeat.
It's disgusting. I'm aware. Perhaps that's half of the reason I would hide under the bed like an addict.
But I still carry that same insatiable appetite for sweets. Though I try to satisfy it using a plate and a fork these days. . .
2 comments:
Haha. I love your blog. And syrup and frosting as well : /
Ryan says the same thing about my family! Growing up we always had ice cream in the freezer and cookies in the pantry. I still hide (from the kids) and eat my sweets. I was just hiding earlier and enjoying a root beer float!
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