Hi, my name is Connor McCaffrey and I'm addicted to marshmallows.
I blame my husband. Not for the mess, but for what caused the mess: the marshmallow addiction. I can't remember the first day that Patrick gave Connor a mini marshmallow, but from that day forward the boy has had a blood lust for them. He can be in a horrible mood and all he has to see is that bag of Jet-Puffed marshmallows, his drug of choice, and his little face lights up. It's cute really, but not when your floor is covered in marshmallows.
We have a pantry door that had the baby lock broken on it from 3 years of Haley's little fingers attempting to pry it open. Eventually the little plastic lock gave up on life, and we've never bothered to replace it. Enter Connor and his addiction.
Patrick and I recently had a particularly eventful evening with whiny children last week, and we had just sat down to our dinner while the kids played. We heard rustling by the pantry door and knew immediately that Connor had found the bag of marshmallows. Knowing that the bag had a clip on it, we decided to give ourselves another minute to chew until one of us would have to pry the bag out of his little fingers. One minute was all he needed.
As Patrick walked over to Connor, what he saw was a very pleased little boy in the midst of a mini marshmallow feast. Rather than waiting for us to give him a couple marshmallows, Connor had taken matters into his own hands and shaken the contents around the kitchen. If he could talk in full sentences, I imagine him yelling, "Make it rain!" while scattering the contents of the bag around the kitchen.
And unfortunately for Connor, the 5 second rule did not apply to these marshmallows. He had to go several days without his fix until we could buy a new bag. And that new bag now resides in the pantry on lock down.