Cookies for Amanda

Brian stared at me with his large, blue eyes wide open. He tried to subtly shake his head no, without being suspected by Grandma. Grandma leaned down to my level, holding an old, glass platter in her hand. "Amanda" (the name that only she called me by;everyone else knew I was Mandy) "would you like a cookie?" I was eager to say yes when another well-meaning sibling stared at me intently. I couldn't understand their meaning, so I cautiously peered onto Grandma's cookie platter to see for myself what the fuss was about. "I bet she can't just choose one!" Grandma giggled to my parents. Mom and Dad politely laughed at Grandma's adequate attempt at humor while my sibling snickered. I pleadingly looked towards them, uncertain what my next move should be. I mean, these cookies clearly were not ordinary cookies--I wasn't sure they were even cookies at all. Quite frankly, they looked absolutely disgusting! But I was foolish enough to not heed my brother's warning, so I had to deal with the consequence. I grabbed a less menacing looking cookies and bit. I've spent the last 12 years trying to forget that taste.