Secret Cookies

"Would you buy some Girl Scout Cookies?" Dangerous words, spoken by a pixie whose long hair, dimples, and relentless smile disguised the cunning saleswoman inside. She slipped into my classroom during writing workshop and slid over next to the student with whom I was conferring, catching me unaware and unprepared.

I hesitated. "Well....", I replied (sounding unconvincing even to my own ears), "I already bought some--twice. I really just can't buy more". She kept on smiling, seeing that my hand was already twitching, moving toward the pen just out of reach.  My first graders froze, pencils hovering in midair; they know how I feel about cookies. As my fingers curled around the pen, I could hear the boy sitting next to me take a breath and hold it.

"Maybe just one box more," I said, "but you can't tell--not anyone--that I'm buying more cookies." In unison, the devious Girl Scout and a room full of 6 and 7 year olds nodded. I went on. "It's secret--secret cookies. After all, I probably need to have some secret cookies somewhere, right? You just can never, ever tell my kids."

My students started grinning; they know my children, who are older than they are and have hero status in our room. "We won't!", they assured me, "we promise we will never tell. Buy the secret cookies!"

I picked the lemon ones. They are bright yellow. They are deliciously light. They make me think of spring.

Don't tell.