Oreo no no

Life is full of surprises. Nearly five years ago I was invited to a US-themed fancy dress party and decided, inexplicably, to go dressed as an Oreo cookie.

The entire evening was spent batting off questions as to why I had come dressed as a Brownie (mini girl guides who think about others before themselves, not the gooey chocolate kind. At least that would have been nearer the mark).

Did they miss the Oreo cookies I had stuffed in my chocolate-coloured beanie. Why did they think I was wearing a chocolate-coloured beanie? Fashion?

Anyway, I spent the evening explaining that I was an Oreo cookie, for crying out loud, but also declaring that I hated the things as they crumbled down my forehead.

Last week the BUBs both woke up at 4.42am and that was that, we were awake. All of us. Until bedtime the following evening. And I inexplicably, a few weeks before, had bought a packet of Oreo cookies for the BUBs. Untouched that morning, by midday I had devoured half a packet. And geez, as they say, they were delicious. They saved me.

Turns out I was thinking of Hershey’s chocolate, which I loathe. Or do I? Life, eh?

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