“Must you MOCK ME so?” asked Otto, in response to yesterday’s entry.
I considered his question for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I must. Thank you for asking.”
[Do you ever wonder what keeps him here? I wonder, quite often. I mean, Otto is smart, funny, charming, capable, and totally hot. All I bring to this relationship is a couple of high-maintenance children, copious amounts of mockery, repeated requests for popcorn, and a dog with periodic digestive issues. I can only conclude that I must be positively mind-blowing in bed.]
Otto rolled his eyes. Naturally, I took that as a challenge.
“I think maybe we’re going to have Otto Week on the blog, in fact,” I continued. “All Otto, All The Time. This is going to be FUN.”
This happened in response to dinner last night, and really, he just makes it too easy. See, we were eating, enjoying our meal, no problems. I don’t know how the topic of milk and cookies came up, but somehow we started talking about it and Otto started talking about how he really wanted some cookies.
“So have some cookies,” I said. “We have cookies in the pantry.”
Otto hasn’t been eating cookies, because Otto has been low-carbing with me. (Otto’s idea of supporting me on my diet is to eat exactly the way he always has for six months while I give up everything that tastes good and struggle to lose 12 pounds, and THEN to decide to join me and promptly lose 15 pounds in the first two weeks. Jerk.) But it’s SUMMER! And I realized that Chickadee had never seen Otto have milk and cookies, and I wanted some corroboration that he’s a freak.
“Hey Chickadee, you’re going to LOVE this. Otto, tell her what you do.” He glared at me. I’ve mocked him enough on this issue that he knew exactly what I meant.
Chickadee turned to Otto, expectant. Otto rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. “Don’t you like to have milk with your cookies?” Otto asked her, a paragon of reasonableness.
“Sure…?” she said, gaze flickering back and forth between us, waiting for the catch.
“Exactly,” he said. “EVERYONE likes milk and cookies together. Do you DIP your cookies in the milk?”
“Sometimes…?” she answered.
“Well there you go,” said Otto, smug.
“Oh COME ON,” I exploded. “Otto, dipping cookies in milk is NOT what you do. Chickadee, let me ask you something. Have you ever dropped an entire cookie into your glass of milk, and LEFT IT THERE TO DISINTEGRATE?”
“EWWWWWWWWW!” She visibly recoiled in her seat. Otto threw his hands into the air.
“It’s the same thing as dipping!” he said. “Except it’s EVEN BETTER because the cookie flavors the milk, a little, and then it’s completely soaked and delicious after you eat the rest of your cookies and drink the milk! It’s COOKIE AND MILK PERFECTION!”
Chickadee was still writhing in her seat. I got up to fetch the cookies, because I knew it needed to be seen to be believed.
Otto poured himself a glass of milk and then dropped a cookie into it. It floated on the surface, and Chickadee peered down at it. “Do you want me to POKE it?” she asked, helpfully.
“No, just leave it. It’ll sink,” replied Otto, an old hand with this disgusting exercise. We returned to the table. Chickadee ate a couple of cookies. Otto bit into a cookie and sighed. “I haven’t had a cookie in SO LONG,” he said, blissful.
“OH REALLY?” I said, totally jealous of his wheat-filled cookies. “I haven’t had a cookie in a REALLY long time. Hmph.” It’s true, I’m bitter.
Chickadee leaned over to check Otto’s glass. The cookie in it had sunk to the bottom. We chatted about various milk-and-cookie combos while Otto ate the non-drowned cookies.
[For example, Otto continued trying to defend his disgusting habit by saying that everyone loves milk and cookies. I pointed out that you can have that combo by dipping your cookies—BRIEFLY!—in milk, or simply by taking a sip of milk and then a bite of cookie. Chickadee maintained that if she does that, the milk falls out of her mouth when she bites the cookie. I told her to bite the cookie first, then to sip the milk. She said if she does THAT, the cookie falls out of her mouth. And then I told her she’s clearly too stupid to eat cookies. Because I’m a loving mother.]
Finally, Otto finished the other cookies and drank the remaining milk, leaving nothing but a bloated cookie carcass in the bottom of the glass. “See,” he said to Chickadee, tilting the glass her way, “this cookie is perfectly milk-flavored, now. Total perfection.”
“It’s DISINTEGRATING,” I said. “It’s a giant chunk of cookie backwash.”
“It kind of looks like puke, Otto,” added Chickadee. THAT’S MY GIRL.
Otto shook his head at both of us, then tilted the glass a bit more so that the cookie began to scoot towards his mouth. He paused and added, “See how the cookie has taken on the curve of the side of the glass?” He said it reverently, as if Jesus’ face in a grilled cheese sandwich is interesting, but THIS right here was actually HOLY.
“It really looks like you’re drinking a glass of vomit,” Chickadee said.
Otto not only downed his milk-logged cookie chunk, he went so far as to insist that MOST PEOPLE would agree with him that it’s TOTALLY DELICIOUS to sink a cookie in the milk and consider it the final flourish on a heavenly milk-and-cookies session. I told him that he’s insane; enjoying the combination of milk and cookies does NOT, ergo, mean one enjoys a cookie which is completely sodden.
Readers, I call upon your collective wisdom. For ease of use, I give you this poll, but feel free to leave comments as well. The fate of mockery in my house is depending on you.