Tuesday, March 5, 2013
A Little Story About Little Debbie
I was 10-ish. I was at church camp. And I was miserable. I hated church camp. Well, actually I hated being away from my mom and dad and they weren't at church camp so I hated church camp. I was homesick. (Let's all keep in mind this was before the age of cellphones and tablets.)
My mom, being the wonderful mother she is, packed some snacks for me and I placed them right beside my bed on a shelf.
I don't know why but during the day there was a nap time scheduled. So I laid on my top bunk, homesick and staring at the box of oatmeal creme pies. Slowly I reached over, quietly opened the box, pulled one out, opened it as quietly as I could and then ate it while staring at the ceiling. Mmmmm, nothing helps a sad heart like an oatmeal cream pie. I let the soft, chewy, creamy goodness wash over me....and then it was gone. More sadness.
I reached over and pulled out another, opened it quietly and ate it, stuffing the wrappers in my pillow case.
I repeated this twelve times. TWELVE! During one naptime, I ate an entire box of oatmeal creme pies. And I would have gotten away with it except another girl in another top bunk across the room laid there and watched me the whole time and then outed me at quiet time before chapel that night. Thanks, random girl I didn't know. The camp counselor chalked it up to me having hollow legs. I didn't understand what she meant until I was older. Also when I was older, I didn't go to church camp.
So there you have it. Me + Little Debbie = BFFE....only I don't really eat oatmeal creme pies after that.