Disclaimer: this is an attempt at some silly humour. If you’re [still] a snowflake and can’t take my attempt of describing a slice of life in a locked-down, metropolitan 🇨🇦 family, best piss off before leaving a passive aggressive comment. Sorry not sorry.
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The apocalyptic stash of Pringles is now officially gone.
I bought three cans and a few bags of chips before this all happened, and the boys have been out twice for supplies since we sequestered ourselves in our home in IDK, 14, 15 days now.
The chips are gone. All of them. 😶
I find myself facing a dilemma. It appears I no longer have a choice here.
I’m going to lock my teenager in the shed. 😛
Except, that idea, enticing as it may be, is not foolproof either. There are a fridge and a freezer in the shed.
(It’s a nice shed with walls and a solid roof and electricity. We renovated it a few years ago. When this house was built in 1949, the shed used to function as a garage. The cars were much smaller back then…)
Once I throw my kid into the shed among the bikes, baseball gear, tools and gardening equipment, he’ll no doubt begin his search for the next thing to eat.
I doubt he’ll choose the frozen food without at least thawing it out first (maybe not the moose steaks, just the frozen pizzas). I’m not too worried. He doesn’t have the patience to wait for frozen food to thaw and it’s not warm enough up here yet to let the sun do it. (There is no sun today anyway. Only rain and gloom.)
He’ll definitely not eat the raw eggs from the fridge, either (will he?). 😳
He won’t stop searching. When it comes to food, this kid, like many/most teen boys, are a creative, ingenious bunch.
They will find a way. 😉
Must be a neurological thing or something…
So I picture him standing there analyzing his choices. The homemade broths I store in the freezer may temporarily satisfy the salt craving, but unless he chews the ice cubes he won’t get much crunch. (I freeze my broth in ice cube trays and store them in plastic zip bags.)
He may nibble some frozen pizza before deciding that it may not be quite up to par of his adolescent taste buds.
He might consider cracking some raw eggs into an empty container (which he’ll find in all the accumulated clutter in there) and mix them with the last carton of milk from the fridge but I don’t think he’ll consider that as an option since in his desperation to satisfy the salt craving, he won’t want to put that much work into his future nosh without the promise of salty crunch.
There is one final possibility, though.
He may, quite possibly, get
distressed bored hungry enough to taste his first, and then drink all of his dad’s, beer.
I see you, fellow teen-raising pandemic-enduring peeps. I feel you. 💗
Hang in there. 😷