1.27.2017

Southern Parenting Tale: The Day We Delivered Girl Scout Cookies and How it Went so Wrong

It's that time of year again.  If you are on a diet, you hate it. If you count the days until you can get your hands on a Samoas Cookie, you love it.  In the South, we call that Girl Scout coconut cookie a Caramel de Lite because there are two bakers for the cookies. If you ask me, there must have been a spat on Girl Scout cookie names and ABC Bakers who supplies NC cookies, did not win the fight.

The popular Girl Scout cookie
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The original naming rights apparently went to Little Brownie Bakers. I spend half my time during Girl Scout cookie season trying to decipher a person's request for a Do-Si-Dos cookie followed by a Tag-a-Long.  Damn it, we are raising funds for the same Girl Scout organization. Can't people make the cookie names consistent?  Do we really need two cookie names for the same cookie and two different types of s'mores cookies, depending on the baker? Geesh!! But, at least we all know that a thin mint means a thin mint cookie no matter the baker.



As a mom to a seven-year-old Daisy, I have a love-hate relationship with the Girl Scout Cookies. I love eating them. That's where the love stops. As for my Daisy, she is more excited about eating the twenty boxes of cookie that her Dad bought from her than selling and delivering cookies.

We've sold a few cookies to our neighbors. Selling is fun. Delivering the goods is not so fun, especially when you get out of school late and it gets dark early.

I always text before delivering to a customer because I'm certainly not going to waste time going if no one is home. Half the time, Liza doesn't even want to go and deliver to the people who bought cookies from her. I have to tell her that the neighbors may have a cat or dog. That gets her motivated for at least one trip or two.

For one nice neighbor, it took us several days of texting to coordinate a delivery. I would text. He wouldn't be home. He would text and it was too late to go over. At one point, he was in his car getting ready to leave when I texted so I ran outside and he did a "drive-by" on his way out of town. He was a big spender at 5 boxes.

On Thursday, we finally had a free block in our schedule to try to tackle some more deliveries. She wanted to ride her bike. We weren't going far, but a bike trip turned what would have been a five-minute walk into a 20-minute bike ride one way. She is slow. Biking is not faster.  Math was never my strong point, but that is almost an hour to deliver just four boxes of cookies when we have a whole stack to deliver in the garage, but it is what is is.  At least one Girl Scout cookie customer would be eating well in the neighborhood tonight.

Since my son was in the house, I closed the garage door and went out the side garage door. I checked the handle and off we went.

We returned almost 40 minutes later, in the dark.  I told you it would take us a long time with her on that bike. I told her to stay in the driveway and I would let her in through the garage. Or so I thought. It turns out that when I checked the handle of the side entry garage door before we left, it really was not unlocked.

We were locked out of the house. Luckily, I had my phone so I didn't feel totally helpless, but the two of us went to the front door to try to get Jack's attention.

I imagined at this point that he's celebrating that he is alone in the house. I envision him with his headphones on and deep into whatever computer game he's playing.  He was not answering the door.

We kept ringing the doorbell like maniacs.  And we didn't just ring and stop. We did a continuous ring that would signal panic to most ears.

Honestly, we were in panic mode by this point.  Once we realized we could be stuck outside then the little one had to pee, and pee badly.

I did what anyone would do in an emergency. I called my husband.  This just happened to be the one night he had plans getting the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby race set up.  He didn't answer.

I was on my own.

We rung the bell again. And again.  And again. Finally, I saw a figure. He opened the door looking at us as if we were wild, crazy people.

He said, "Why didn't you ring the doorbell like a normal person? I thought it was Liza playing."

We were not playing, but I was so happy to be rescued. I then walked out the patio door to get her bike, and bam...somehow my finger got smashed into the door.

In less than a minute, I went from panic to misery.  All because of Girl Scout cookies.

That my friends is my tale about the day that we delivered just four boxes of cookies to a customer. Just forty more to cookie deliveries to go and two cookie booths to work.

But, at least she's cute. I do all of it for her. but I draw the line at camping. Not going to happen. What's your favorite Girl Scout cookie?

Shop Liza's online cookie site for those out-of-towners.


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