We Go Together Like...

Yesterday was the 100th birthday of the Oreo cookie.

I ate two in commemoration.

Yes, only two. (Yesterday.)

Oreos and me have a back history. (I wonder - does everyone in America have a back history with Oreo cookies? I wouldn't be surprised if they did.)

I was 7 years old, I think, or maybe 6. Summertime. My parents were taking me to a Vacation Bible School program at a local Baptist church that week. Now, this was not our regular church, so I didn't know anyone there, and VBS in 1986-87 was nothing like it is today. What I remember from that week of VBS, besides the Oreo cookie story I'm about to tell you, is that I didn't like the other kids, they didn't like me, and I won the long jump competition by a wide margin.

Long legs for the win!

Back to the Oreos. That's what was served for snack one of those days at VBS in 1986 or 87 at a Baptist church in Southern California. I was probably wearing tennis shoes with rainbows on them when these delicious and highly coveted treats were served for snack, but alas, though my rainbow shoes may have been enough to win me the long jump competition, they were not enough to win me the popular visiting kid competition and would you believe I was so thoroughly elbowed and shoved to the back of the VBS hoard that I didn't get any Oreos that day?! By the time I got to the teacher, they were all gone.

The teachers and my parents seemed to have made a big deal about it. Thinking back, I'm guessing there was something more sinister going on than that they just ran out, because everyone acted as though I had been wronged and something needed to be done to make amends.

They're just cookies, for gosh sakes!

But it was a big deal for whatever reason, and so I played along with being hurt and dejected. Later that day my dad brought me my own snack size package of Oreos, just for me. There were 12 cookies in that package, so whatever had happened at VBS was well worth the temporary pain. Long jump competition winner and Oreo cookie queen, that was me.

My dad must have liked to bring me gifts because he did it often. One time when I was 5 he even sent me flowers, but that's a memory for another day. Not long after the VBS/Oreo debacle he brought me home a Springbok mini jigsaw puzzle of - you guessed it - an Oreo cookie. This, of course, forever imprinted upon my developing heart several core truths about life;

1. I was his Beloved Princess

2. Oreos are way special

2. Beloved Princesses and Oreos go together like, well... like cookies and cream.

The end.