C is for cookie and that's good enough for me... I guess.

Ana licked all of the butter from my toast the other morning.
And then she put the toast back on my plate.

The same day she sneezed on my plate of food while I ate a wonderful dinner at my sister's house.
I ate it.

What has happened to me?
My mom used to tell us stories about how we would chew on a cookie and hand it to her. She said she would always eat the mushy cookie. "You HAVE to," she says. "The child is trying to SHARE," she says to our protests. As young adults we would hold back our gag reflex and flinch when she would tell the stories of a mother eating a mushy cookie.
"No way," we said.
"Too gross," we exclaimed as we united against her.

And so I stand before you. I have eaten the licked toast. I have eaten pork with a lovely maple-and-sneeze glaze. I rarely make it through a meal without someone touching my food or taking my fork from me.

I'm not sure if I've eaten these things out of love for my daughters or respect for their self esteem, sadly. I think it is laziness and apathy. I've given up on my privacy and my food.
And with all of this talk I'm not at all grossed out.
In fact, I'm in the mood for a cookie...