No. Instead, I ate a cookie or two when my mother brought them home, utterly ignoring in my selfish childhood state the tender way in which my mother must have laid out those thin mints in glee and anticipation, eyes glowing with the reflection of purple and green boxes as if staring into a trunk of fiery rubies.
Girl Scout Cookies, my friends, are for grown ups.
Someone in my office has a daughter in Girl Scouts, and subsequently put up an order form in the kitchen some 3 weeks ago. The AGONY. Since putting in my order I've passed half a dozen Girl Scout stands and pined for my own boxes to come, trying to be patient. What is it about these cookies?? Is it nostalgia for something? Is it merely the anticipation, like wating for a package in the mail? Is there crack smothered between the caramel and the coconut?
In the end, I think it's a "simple joy" of adulthood. It's temporary appeasement from the monotony and hypnotic state of cubicle life that allows you to delve into the sweet and tempting treasure trove of nostalgic chocolate. Kids have it so good, and candy is such a daily part of life, that the miracle of someone bringing you cookies is rather lost on the awesomeness of childhood. But that miracle could never, ever be lost on someone who sits at a desk all day. It is quite literally, a sweet escape.
So I raise my office Nalgene to give a toast, to the brave little ladies who pass on these beloved treats to those of us who need it.
yes, yes I did already break into the Samoas.