Peter's Cookie Jar Surprise Just For Me
There is a 'sweets-loving trait" that went down the family's genetic code from Nettie and Pete Sr, through most of the girls and down to Pete. Most of them hid their candy or sweet snacks from each other in the strangest places. Nettie was notorious for stashing Entenmann's Crumb Cake in every room, with a knife for easy slicing. She'd sweep the floor in the front bedroom, open up the closet and cut herself a piece of crumb cake. Then, later that day, she'd be polishing the wood in the parlor (as she called it), open a draw, and cut herself a piece of crumb cake. Pete Sr. also stashed chocolate bars behind the bookcase (0'Henry bars) and enjoyed a good read and a treat every nite at bedtime. Peter too would do the same. Since he was tall, he'd make his favorite cookies and then hide them on top of the fridge, behind a vase of flowers, because he was the only one who could reach it.
From Pete's niece, Marie:
In our family, no one ever makes cakes or cookies from a box - we are food snobs -- we make everything from scratch. And Peter would make the best homemade Oatmeal Cookies.( A recipe handed down from his sister Nancy) Peter's cookies were slammin! Peter would make these cookies weekly, share a couple with whomever was around, put them in a tin box he kept and then hid them up ontop of the fridge. When he went to band practice, I'd sneak over, get the footstool and a box, climb up and eat a few of his cookies. I was about 8 or 10 years old
Peter would come back from practice, grab a carton of milk, open his box of cookies and then notice that some were missing. He'd scream to his mom that someone was stealing his food. So, he started counting them. He changed his hiding spot a couple of times, but because I was the "baby of the family" he never noticed me stalking him. I knew all his hiding spots --even on top of a ledge in the doorway going out to the backyard -- in the green canister.
One day I finally got the whole canister to myself. I figured out how to climb on top of the table, hold onto the curtains, and grab the canister. I ran down the hallway and sat there and ate every single cookie,crumb,morsel that was in there. ( I felt like I was gonna vomit...but it was worth it).
Later on ,Peter came home from work, and went straight to his cookie jar. I was watching from behind the door when he started screaming, "MOMMA .. SHE DID IT AGAIN ... SHE FOUND MY COOKIES AND ATE THEM ALL" Pete sees me giggling and starts chasing me around the house like a nut. He chased me out of the house. I was scared shit.
An hour later, I snuck back into the house and Pete was making another batch of cookies. I went over to him slowly and said I was sorry for eating his cookies. He said it was ok, and asked me to grab a chair so we could talk. He told me to make sure I asked for cookies and he'll give me whatever I wanted. Then he tells me that my grandmother left me some cookies in the jar on the table and that he was sure I was going to like them.
My thought was "Wow, I can't believe I'm not in trouble. I can't believe Pete is being so nice to me." I reached for the jar, opened it and a huge stinky, smelly FART wafted out of the jar. It was a stink bomb. Peter had somehow captured a fart and left it waiting for me. I think I fell off the chair it was so disgusting and unexpected. And he just laughed and laughed, sitting there eating his oatmeal cookies while I ran from the table.
I never really looked at Oatmeal cookies the same ever again ...
From Pete's niece, Marie:
In our family, no one ever makes cakes or cookies from a box - we are food snobs -- we make everything from scratch. And Peter would make the best homemade Oatmeal Cookies.( A recipe handed down from his sister Nancy) Peter's cookies were slammin! Peter would make these cookies weekly, share a couple with whomever was around, put them in a tin box he kept and then hid them up ontop of the fridge. When he went to band practice, I'd sneak over, get the footstool and a box, climb up and eat a few of his cookies. I was about 8 or 10 years old
Peter would come back from practice, grab a carton of milk, open his box of cookies and then notice that some were missing. He'd scream to his mom that someone was stealing his food. So, he started counting them. He changed his hiding spot a couple of times, but because I was the "baby of the family" he never noticed me stalking him. I knew all his hiding spots --even on top of a ledge in the doorway going out to the backyard -- in the green canister.
One day I finally got the whole canister to myself. I figured out how to climb on top of the table, hold onto the curtains, and grab the canister. I ran down the hallway and sat there and ate every single cookie,crumb,morsel that was in there. ( I felt like I was gonna vomit...but it was worth it).
Later on ,Peter came home from work, and went straight to his cookie jar. I was watching from behind the door when he started screaming, "MOMMA .. SHE DID IT AGAIN ... SHE FOUND MY COOKIES AND ATE THEM ALL" Pete sees me giggling and starts chasing me around the house like a nut. He chased me out of the house. I was scared shit.
An hour later, I snuck back into the house and Pete was making another batch of cookies. I went over to him slowly and said I was sorry for eating his cookies. He said it was ok, and asked me to grab a chair so we could talk. He told me to make sure I asked for cookies and he'll give me whatever I wanted. Then he tells me that my grandmother left me some cookies in the jar on the table and that he was sure I was going to like them.
My thought was "Wow, I can't believe I'm not in trouble. I can't believe Pete is being so nice to me." I reached for the jar, opened it and a huge stinky, smelly FART wafted out of the jar. It was a stink bomb. Peter had somehow captured a fart and left it waiting for me. I think I fell off the chair it was so disgusting and unexpected. And he just laughed and laughed, sitting there eating his oatmeal cookies while I ran from the table.
I never really looked at Oatmeal cookies the same ever again ...