Having lived in apartment complexes for the last fifteen or so years, Mike and I are still not used to someone being able to just ring our doorbell. In fact, it usually scares the crap out of us. When the bell rings, Ribgy (who is also not used to it) goes berserk, and Annie starts shrieking. She thinks every time the doorbell rings, Gramma is here…and then she gets upset when it isn’t Gramma.
Nine times out of ten, the person ringing the bell is trying to sell us solar panels. I take a pamphlet from each of them. At first I was doing it to be polite, but now I do it to keep track of how many solar panel sales people have come by. To date? 13. And they are all working with one of my neighbors! They exclusively work in the area! They just need 90 to 120 minutes of my time! When it isn’t solar panel people, it’s someone trying to convert us to their religion, or a real estate agent giving us comps in the area. Yay, our house has decreased in value.
But then, one glorious day, The Girl Scouts came to our door, and Mike was so happy he was practically jumping up and down with excitement. The two little girls in their Brownie uniforms were adorable, and they hit the jackpot with Mike. He bought five boxes – each. “I couldn’t play favorites!” he said when I gave him the side-eye. I braced myself for the onslaught of Girl Scouts once they heard about the mark in the yellow house.
Mike proceeded to talk about his cookie order every day. I was mildly annoyed, because a) those damn cookies are like crack, and b) I already had a
crack cookie supplier in my friend Tara’s daughter, Reilly. He waxed poetic about the cookies, getting Annie all worked up – when the doorbell rang, Annie and Mike would yell, “COOKIES!” when it was *surprise* another solar panel salesman.
After a few weeks, the cookies I ordered from Reilly arrived. Mike’s excitement hit epic levels. “Any day now, Annie! Our cookies are almost here!” It was like the cookies I’d ordered from Reilly weren’t good enough (more for me). But then a few more days went by…and a few more. Mike asked me “when do you think they’ll come? Can you ask Tara?”
I was hanging out with Tara a few days later and asked her in passing if the Girl Scouts were still getting in their cookies, and she told me that it was long over. I knew what had happened.
I came home from and found him peeking through the blinds on our front windows. “What are you doing?” I asked him. “School is out! They might come by on their way home!” He said back excitedly. I sat Mike down and told him the cookies weren’t coming. “Maybe their shipment was delayed!” No, Mike. “Maybe they’re both sick!” No, Mike. “MAYBE YOU’RE JUST WRONG AND THEY ARE STILL COMING!” I calmly explained that he was the victim of a cookie practical joke. “You don’t know that! I think they’re still coming, they were so adorable and sweet!”
Over a month has passed. Yesterday Mike said to me, “they’re not coming with the cookies, are they, Heddy.” It was more of a statement than a question.
The Girl Scouts may not have taken any money from us (you pay upon delivery of the cookies), but they did steal Mike’s innocence.