If you give a mom a cookie

If you give a mom a cookie, it means the toddler is napping, and she'll want to sit down to eat it in peace.

When she tries to sit down, she'll see a dirty sock that has been left on the couch.

She won't see its match, so she'll look under the couch.

Looking under the couch will remind her that she really should vacuum.

She'll go get the vacuum from the closet and have to lift it up over the jackets that have been left on the floor.

Picking up the jackets, she'll see that her son forgot his homework again.

Setting the homework on the counter, she'll notice the never-ending pile of papers that seem to multiply like rabbits on the counter she cleaned yesterday.

She'll go through the pile of papers and set them on the other counter.

She'll find a bill she needs to pay.

She'll sit down at the computer to pay the bill and notice she has an email.

In her email she has a Facebook friend request.

Seeing the friend request will lure her toward the crack that is Facebook.

After an hour on Facebook, she will glance around her desk and wonder where the time went.

She will see the marbles and Lego bricks on the counter (which also multiply like rabbits) that really belong in the basement.

When she takes them to the basement, she'll notice that it, too, needs to be vacuumed.

She will make a conscious choice to avoid vacuuming the basement.

She'll walk past her card making desk and sit down--for just a minute.

After an hour of moving small pieces of cardstock and stamped images around, she'll give up.

She has lost her papercrafting mojo.

She decides that a cookie might just solve the problem.

She goes upstairs and remembers that she set down the cookie when she saw the dirty sock.

She will hear the toddler wake up from his nap.

Hearing him come downstairs will remind her that she'd better eat the cookie, or he'll take it.

Eating the cookie will remind her that she should sit down.

And chances are, if she sits down on the couch, she'll want a snuggling toddler to go with it.

My apologies and my thanks to Laura Numeroff, for her uncanny assessment of motherhood (or ADHD--whatever), cleverly disguised as stories of animals wanting to eat treats.