Anytime we go into a store, the first words out of his mouth are, "Can I get some Hot Cheetos?" Seriously. Is there nothing else you want to ask about?
A new X-Box. More new games. A bicycle. Gold bars. New underwear.
Nope. Hot Cheetos. With..........out..........fail.
And frankly, if it's not Hot Cheetos, then it is Takis. Nicki dislikes them all because of the smell they leave behind. I just dislike them strongly because it's always on his brain.
This past weekend, we stopped at a Subway on our way to California, to provide sustenance to our children. After "the question," he decided what type of sandwich he wanted.He chose to get a footlong with everything on it. I don't believe that is an exaggeration. Never mind that both Nicki and I tried to convince him he only needed a 6-inch sandwich. #hepersisted
We barely had time to fasten our seat belts before he tore into his Cheetos. I hadn't even started the car, for crying out loud. Nicki removed them from his possession with the promise they would be returned after he finished his sandwich.
He ate half of it and asked if he had to eat the rest. I think you know our answer. He ate half of what was left and insisted that there was simply no way he could possibly eat another bite. We told him to wrap it up and he could finish it later in the drive when he got hungry again.
He proceeded to wrap up his sandwich. As it sounded like he was finishing putting it away, I said to Nicki, "Wait for iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit....."
"Can I have my Hot Cheetos?"
Nicki and I laughed and laughed and laughed. Oh...it was a good laugh. For several minutes. I didn't get to laugh like that for another several hours...but that's another story.
