Peanut Butter, A Boy, and A Dog...

Let's start off with the cast of characters:

Peanut Butter...



A Boy...

And a Dog...

 

The little Mr. loves peanut butter...a lot.  It ranks right up there with pizza.  The trouble, is that for the past several weeks, I've found evidence that he has been sneaking peanut butter behind our backs. 

First, it was the peanut butter smeared spoons placed back in the silverware drawer.  I'm usually the lucky one to find them when I'm groggily searching for a spoon to stir my morning tea.  Yuck.

Then, it was the heavy odor of peanut butter on his breath pretty much all day long.

One morning (scratch that several mornings) I woke up, only to find him hiding under our work station with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.

But, the final straw was the one morning that we all payed the price for his poor attempts at covering his tracks.

We got up, and like most mornings, we were running late and needed to hurry and get the Mr. to preschool.  I encouraged him to hurry with his breakfast, while thrusting shoes and socks in his direction.  I walked into the kitchen to discover that something was captivating Stella's attention.  She's extremely lazy, so to see her up and attentive after eating breakfast at 7am is really unusual.  Usually, she's already back in bed, wishing we'd all go away.

Anyway, she had her head shoved into the space under our work station and she was stretching with all her might to reach something near the back, all the while making this horrible licking/smacking noise.

I shooed her away and peeked under the desk to discover an open jar of peanut butter and a spoon.  In true mastiff style, her face was covered in drool and she was quite pleased with herself and the extra protein she had just consumed.  Friends...it was gross...and there was a mess.

Now, all I can tell you is that it was a brand new jar of peanut butter, and either Stella or the little Mr. managed to eat half of it in one sitting.  I got bits and pieces of the story, but the final conclusion was that when the Mr. heard us get out of bed, it spooked him and he forgot the jar and the spoon in his hiding spot.

The other thing I can tell you, is both the Mr. and Stella had a bit of...how do I say this delicately...digestive issues.  There was no denying the evidence there my friends.

But, you know, we haven't had a problem since.  No more peanut butter spoons.  No more hiding.   No more misplaced peanut butter jars.

Sometimes natural consequences provide the remedy to a sticky situation.