Animal crackers in my soup

I have a craving for animal crackers. Not your run-of-the-mill shortbread crackers but the fully frosted shortbread animal shapes that come with multi-colored sprinkles. They are quite unhealthy if you look at the ingredients, but the baby in my belly likes them so what baby wants, baby gets. After all, pregnancy is about sacrifice, right?

It's difficult to sneak animal crackers in front of the kids. It's one thing if I'm just grabbing an apple or something healthy, but when they see that Mommy is eating animal crackers, especially the fully frosted shortbread animal shapes, they of course want some too. I've tried all sorts of different methods, for example, waiting until nap time. This way I only have to fend off one four year old. But a lot of times, I can't wait until nap time.

This morning, I could hear the animal crackers in the cupboard calling out to me. I looked around. Avery was busy reading a book on the couch Tucker was cruising around running his trains up and down every surface of the kitchen and Piper was napping. I opened the pantry. The door squeaked. The reading and the trains stopped. The kids looked at me.

What are you doing, Mom?

Um, nothing. Just seeing what we can make for lunch.

I reached in to the cupboard, their heads turning to see what I was doing. I reached in, the door still partially shut, and the bag of fully frosted shortbread animal shapes made a crumpling noise.

"What is making that noise, Mom?"

"Um, nothing. Just the big bag of noodles."

I had an over-sized cardigan on and very tactically was able to get the bag out of the cupboard and behind my cardigan. I wrapped the cardigan around the bag, fully concealing it. Tucker stood there, wide eyed, looking me up and down. I moved and the bag crinkled.

"I want some."

"Some what?"

"Please, Mommy?"

"I have nothing. I am innocent. Go play."

Avery walked over and looked me up and down suspiciously. I walked out of the kitchen, two kids trailing behind me, interrogating me left and right. I shut the door to my bedroom and sank down onto the chair, my book in one hand and a bag of fully frosted shortbread animal shapes in the other. I had about fifteen minutes of me time before I heard the baby crying upstairs.

I walked out of the room, forgetting to conceal the now empty bag. (No, I didn't eat them all in one sitting, Mom.) The protests began.

"But Mom, those are for kids! You're not a kid."

"I want some! Please, Mom?"

"Ugh, Tucker, Mom ate all the animal crackers."

"I'm just not having a good day today, Mom."

Perhaps my next craving will be edamame or spinach leaves, but in the mean time I'm going to have to find better ways to get around the kids.