I tell people (joking, but with an absolute deadpan) that there’s only one way to eat an Oreo correctly, and that I refuse to consort with people who don’t eat it right.
For the record, my own Patient Husband eats Oreos differently than I do, but I want to be ridiculously, inflexibly dogmatic about something, and this was the least offensive thing I could pick. It’s unlikely to start a civil war, for example, or get me booted off my parenting forum.
Last night, my kids grabbed the box of minty Oreos my mother had given me (she has to feed me, it’s one of those Italian things, and she knows I don’t buy them for myself) and declared them dessert. After I handed out the proper dosage, I said solemnly, “Remember to eat them correctly.”
Kiddo#1 missed his Patient Father’s patient eyeroll and said, “How’s that?”
I said, “You remove the top and expose all the filling, then eat the top first.”
I was about to say, “And then scrape off the filling with your teeth” when Kiddo#2 piped up cheerfully, “And you eat the filling last.”
She had somehow peeled off the entire minty green filling and laid it on the table so she could eat the bottom cookie.
We laughed for about two minutes. Then I discovered I too could peel off the minty filling. (I’m not sure why I could: maybe it’s less sticky than the traditional filling.)
And so I relented on my Dogmatic Thing and ate an Oreo wrong.
Forgive me, Father, for I have munched.