We were at the grocery store earlier in the week. My little girl declared that she was hungry and needed cheese balls. Because I can’t say no to her, we came home with a giant jug of cheese balls. It was a freakishly large container. It was a vat of cheese balls. It’s the kind of thing you would find at a carnival where they expect you to guess the number of jelly beans. For some reason, this industrial-sized barrel of cheese balls was cheaper than any normal bag of snacks. She ate cheese balls in the car on the way home from the store. I was so happy that these cheese balls made her so happy.
My kids are at their mother’s house for the next week. I find myself sitting here with enough cheese balls to outlast all of humanity, a lack of self control, and very orange fingers.