Which didn’t make me not want a snack. It just made it impossible for me to have one. In my snack-less despair I, of course, went to my twitter account and started tweeting...
Me: Can we agree that someone needs to bring me a chocolate pudding? Thanks.
Thirty minutes later…
Me: I’ll leave the room for exactly 3 minutes. When I get back, whoever has my pudding should leave it on the table. I won’t be mad. I promise.
Ten minutes after that (and partly because I think I am hilarious when I am on twitter)….
Me: Seriously. I want a pudding.Me: Preferably chocolate. Vanilla pudding is wrong.
Me: But, let’s be clear, I WILL eat vanilla pudding. It’s just not as good as the chocolate.
Me: If all you have is vanilla, that’s okay. But don’t go hoarding the chocolate or I will find you and put you in time out.
Me: And, while you’re in time out, I will eat the chocolate pudding.
My husband, Quinten, is one of the only people who actually reads my twitter feed. I mostly tweet when I think it will amuse him. So, when Quinten got home from work that day, he offered me leftover cake he’d brought home from the office. This was my response (also on twitter):
Me: I should not have to keep discussing this with you – CAKE IS NOT PUDDING!!Me: Cookies are also not pudding.
Me: Also ice cream is not pudding.
Me: Yogurt is REALLY not pudding.
Me: Only pudding is pudding. Stop trying to make me think other things are pudding. You’re not fooling anyone.
By the next day, it was too funny to stop. And then Quinten got into the act.
Me: Day two of no chocolate pudding. *sigh*Quinten: I have failed in delivering chocolate pudding to my wife. I am a horrible husband.
Me: I am glad you recognize your shortcomings. It’s the first step to addressing them.
But that night, when Quinten got home do you know what he had with him? NOTHING. He had nothing with him. No chocolate pudding. In fact, no pudding of any kind. He apologized.
Me: Quinten has seen the error of his ways. He intends to bring me pudding tomorrow. (If he knows what’s good for him, that is.)Quinten: You just need a box of pudding mix, right?
Me: Sheesh! Have you learned NOTHING from being married to me??? Already-made pudding, thank you. I do not work for my treats.
I would like to tell you that the next morning I had let this go, but, c’mon, it was too funny not to keep going. Even though, by that time, I didn’t even want pudding anymore.
Me: I’d like to point out that Quinten promised that he’d bring me chocolate pudding today. He didn’t. Day 3 of no pudding. #whereisthelove
Me: For the record, I’d also be happy with strawberries and whipped cream. Seems to me, though, that a pudding cup would be less work.
And then I was reminded of something important. Twitter feeds are public. And Quinten is not, strictly speaking, the only one who reads mine. My older brother, Brent, started responding to our tweets:
Brent: Betsy, I think you need pudding and, failing that, ice cream.Brent: We have some pudding here, but it’s a bit of a hike from NC.
Me: Well, you better get started if you want to bring it to me before this craving ends in tears.
Quinten lamented the sorry state in which he found himself…
Quinten: Boy if I don’t come home with pudding soon. I’m fucked.Brent: Quinten, I think the point is you won’t be fucked… #duh #notfucked
Me: Brent, I prefer to punish with embarrassment and sarcasm. #notfucked hurts both Quinten and me. I’ve already been hurt by lack of pudding.
The next day, things just got worse…
Quinten: Had a nose bleed this morning. Good day to be me.
Then, when I got no response to that…
Me: I was going to tweet something funny, but I’m too weak from lack of chocolate pudding. I’m sorry.
Which is when Quinten got personal. He rolled out this low blow:
Quinten: Considering you have to get a cavity filled, is eating a sugary pudding treat smart #teamnocavity
Which just demonstrates that Quinten sometimes forgets that I have low blows of my own. I save them up for just such an occasion…
Me: You should always remember that I am sneaky, my love. #teamyouwontseeitcoming #teamfuckyouMe: Also, I have hair. #teamhairbrush
Apparently, that’s all it took to get pudding delivered. Right to my kitchen.
Me: Quinten brought me chocolate pudding tonight!!! (Although it should be said that it does not make up for the whole cavity comment.)
After I actually ate the pudding, I felt better…
Me: Having finally eaten a pudding, I’ve decided to forgive Quinten for making the earlier cavity remark. Blame the chocolate.
And I thought that was the end of it. I thought the saga of the pudding was over. Frankly, I was a little disappointed because, well, it kind of ended with a sigh instead of a bang. And what was I going to tweet about now that I’d gotten everything that I’d asked for?
Yesterday, though, the Federal Express truck stopped at my house. Quite unexpectedly. There was a gift-wrapped package on my front porch. The gift tag read “Tweet tweet from your favorite brother.”
An entire case of chocolate pudding cups. Courtesy of my brother. Who later called me to laugh and laugh and laugh.
This is how my family operates.
Now you know why I’m like this.