Otis Spunkmeyer changes lives. Otis Spunkmeyer motivates kids. Otis Spunkmeyer incites honesty. Otis Spunkmeyer transforms squabbling children into good-natured comrades.
Lucky for you, it’s Otis Spunkmeyer fundraiser time again at the middle school. Act fast to obtain these intangible benefits and more. Get your cookie dough while it lasts. Believe me, folks, it goes faster than you (or your kids) think.
Which is why my mother probably won’t order any cookie dough this year. But after I explain what had happened, you will agree that the power of Otis Spunkmeyer to do good outweighs the disappointment of receiving a half-empty package of cookie dough. You’ll want the same for your family.
Last year, we picked up cookie dough orders and brought them home to our box freezer so we could deliver to the kids’ customers over the next couple of days. As usual, it took a bit longer than anticipated to distribute the orders. My parents’ container was the last one in the freezer.
“This package is so much lighter than the others,” said my husband when he pulled it out. “What’s up with that? I think they got shorted.”
I ignored his suggestion. For two weeks my mama and daddy had endured our constant assurances that we were on our way with their cookie dough. “Just take it to them,” I commanded. “I’m feeling guilty about not getting it there sooner, and I’d like to move on from this project.”
My four upstanding children silently witnessed this exchange in the kitchen. The two middle-schoolers accompanied their father to deliver the Otis Spunkmeyer cookie dough and to thank their grandparents for supporting their academic endeavors.
When Otis Spunkmeyer order forms came home last week for this year’s effort, the brochure’s persuasive forces attracted all four siblings into the kitchen where they gathered round to drip saliva on the color pictures. I cannot thank Otis enough for this moment of peace. “Mama, you’re ordering cookie dough, right?” said the 16 year-old.
“Of course!” I said. “There’s no better way to fake homemade cookies.” Otis Spunkmeyer, with those pre-portioned chunks of dough, evokes honesty, even in a hardened story teller like myself.
The 16 year-old responded, “We don’t want you to cook them. The cookie dough is too good for that.”
I flinched. Some truths sting. Before I could reprimand the lad for his aspersions of my culinary talents, however, old Otis worked more magic.
In the midst of four children pulling and tugging and tearing the glossy brochure in eagerness to win the battle of which flavor I would order, my oldest son confessed: “Last time we had Otis Spunkmeyer, I went to the freezer every day after school and ate a chunk of cookie dough.”
The 16 year-old chimed in that he did the same thing, making sure to take just one piece so that no one would notice the gradual, but steady, depletion. One of this year’s sellers, the youngest boy, remarked that he thought he was the only one eating the cookie dough. “I wondered why it was disappearing so fast,” he said. All three fist-pumped each other.
Their sister’s cheeks flamed red. “Y’all ate all the cookie dough!”
“No,” the middle boy protested. “Daddy took the last package to Poppy and Big Dee before we could finish it.”
Otis Spunkmeyer works wonders. Spunkmeyer overhauls the consciences of children. Peace and cooperativeness and honesty will descend upon your home. Support the middle school and order your Otis Spunkmeyer cookie dough today. (And please buy it from my kids, because I doubt their grandmother will.) You’ll be glad you did.