A friend and her daughter stopped by yesterday afternoon to deliver three packages of Lemonades, the best Girl Scout cookie.

“Oh, these are my favorite,” I said as I clutched the cookies to my chest. “These ones are going in my secret snack place.” My youngest son had been hiding around the corner in the living room, avoiding social interaction; but as soon as the door closed he popped out and glared at me.

“You have a secret snack place?” he asked, accusingly. “Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!”

The kids spent the rest of the evening climbing up on chairs and stools searching through the high cupboards of the kitchen for my secret snack hiding place.

They assume I am hiding snacks up high where they can’t reach, but they have forgotten an important fact about me: I have been married to a tall person for fifteen years now. Up high is where he hides stuff from me! No, my secrets must be hidden down low, below tall man stooping level. And not only must they go low, they also have to go in the one place that no male can ever find what he’s looking for: the pantry.

So yes, for more than a decade my secret snacks have been hidden on the lowest shelf of the pantry and not once have they been disturbed by the male gaze. And the children will never know unless they read my blog someday, which I hope they do because this is pretty much my entire legacy.