What we do know is that this is Girl Scout cookie time, where small, adorable children sit at folding tables and wear sashes that have badges for things like Diabetes Awareness. Too cute! I'll take six boxes.
Some Do-si-dos, or Har-di-hars. Shortbreads? A stick of butter in every bite! Some Thin Mints, because those supposedly are the best — but let's be honest: They're OK. People like them because they have Thin in the name, which makes you wonder why they don't market doughnuts as Slender-O's.
But back to the cookies. Did you try the S'mores? They don't have a marshmallow layer, just "icing." It's all right. No one ever snapped at their spouse, "Of course your pants don't fit. It's all that icing."
My daughter hasn't been in Girl Scouts for years. Back then, I could resist the Adorable Guilt Waves emanating from cookie sellers. I could smile and say, "My daughter's a Scout! Sorry." But now I have to be Grinchy McJoycrush and say, "No, no, no. I don't want your cookies." Which is an obvious lie. Because everyone wants their cookies. But if you walk past the Scouts with a smile and a wave, you feel as if you are destroying their faith in capitalism.
Scout (with quivering lip): "I tried to exchange goods for money in a mutually beneficial exchange, but the mean man looked away."
Troop leader: "There, there. Perhaps he ate half a box of Pecan Doodle-Dos last night and you embodied his shame."