Mine is a family of four, and we are snackers.
My husband likes the baked goods: Cookies, breads, muffins. My oldest, who's seven, likes chips and fruit and stuff with peanut butter. The baby, she's five, she (really really) likes cold cereal.
Me? I like junk food. But I don't like to share. This is why I've become... the secret snacker.
Oh sure, I'll let my kids have a S'more. I don't deny them. But then I'll send 'em off to play, hunker with my back to the door, ears trained beyond, so that I can have two.
Occasionally I'll stock up on candy, my favorites. Dark chocolate, a Kit Kat, maybe a Skor toffee bar or Riesen chocolate caramels. They get hidden away into a pencil box in my office, a place no one would ever think to look. *evil laugh*
I've been known to hold Nutter Butters or salt-and-vinegar Pringles behind my back, shifting the goods when I turn corners, as I make my way through the house.
Just the other night, I dumped a large bag of M&M's into a Country Crock butter bowl. Snapped the lid on tight, and transferred it to the space beneath my desk. Oh, yes. Because no kindergartner's going to think twice about that...
And then there are the nights I tuck my kids into bed, hover until I know they're sleeping, and hurdle to the kitchen for a single-serve microwaveable Betty Crocker Warm Delights brownie. (Those suckers are good.)
Mine. All mine.
Because I am the secret snacker. The swiss cake roll I've got right here, that I'm going to eat the second you look away from this post, proves it.
Janna is a freelance and women's fiction writer. You can see more of her at Something She Wrote.