Dear Kids: Stay the Hell Out of the Fridge

Dear Children,

... Or should I say, "dear starving undernourished waifs?" Or perhaps "plague of famished locusts?" Because that's precisely what I think of when I open the refrigerator and it echoes. It's as empty as my wallet - the one I JUST OPENED TO FORK OVER MY LIFE SAVINGS TO THE GROCERY STORE CASHIER.

I know. You're hungry. I know this because you are always hungry. You were hungry five minutes ago, you're hungry right now - probably with your mouth full - and you will be hungry five minutes from now. This is a state you seem to perpetually inhabit, despite the fact that I provide you with three more-than-adequate meals a day. (Which you are ironically "not hungry" enough to eat, yet five minutes after the dishes are cleared you're rummaging for a snack.)

When you're not in the fridge, you're in the cabinets. Or the pantry. Or the freezer. Or trying valiantly to find my hidden stash of emergency chocolate like you don't value your life.

Kids, let me share a little something about the refrigerator, and about modern packaging in general: it is used to preserve food. That means when I purchase something at the grocery store, it does not have to be eaten within a matter of hours in order to avoid spoilage. That's right: IT WILL STILL BE THERE, AND STILL BE EDIBLE, TOMORROW! There's no need to plow through it like a roving band of wild dogs through a meat packing plant. No need to shovel it in like a swarm of stoned sumo wrestlers. I buy enough stuff to last for, like, a week. Maybe two. Maybe three!

I understand that you're growing and that an abundance of food is necessary to sustain your (ridiculous, excessive) energy levels. Maybe try sleeping more? Let's see how that works.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to donate plasma and then heading to the bank to take out a second mortgage - gotta find a way to fund your insatiable appetites somehow. If I'm late for dinner, there's food in the fridge.

Oh wait. No there isn't. BECAUSE YOU ATE IT ALL.

(Seriously, stahhhhhp.)

Love,
Mom