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My mom was the homemade-cookies kinda mom. No store-bought cookies were sent in our lunch pails - not until we were older and the time came when buying pre-packaged baked goods became cheaper than actually making them yourself. I was always envious of those kids who pulled out the crisp, black and white Oreo cookie from their Star Wars lunch pails. The dull, brown homemade peanut butter cookie that came out of my Holly Hobbie lunch pail certainly paled in comparison. Oh, what I wouldn't give to trade for one of those store-bought beauties? How far would I go to get me some mass-produced baking? I'd ditch my little brother in the streets of Hensall, that's how far!

It was a beautiful sunny day, and all the kids in the neighbourhood were outside playing in the cul-de-sac. It was the perfect spot to play - quiet, no traffic, all the parents could keep an eye out for our shenanigans. We must have grown bored with the game we were playing at the time - probably Dukes of Hazzard on our bikes - because one of the kids asked if I wanted to go back to his house for a snack, a snack I knew would have come from the store. Well, my little brother caught wind of this plan and wanted to come along. I had no interest in sharing this moment with him, so off we ran, leaving him in the dust. He tried to keep up, but we were older and faster. We left him in the dust. He finally caught up to us as we sat in the neighbour's kitchen eating Fudgee-os. Fudgee-os! Oh the rich, chocolately deliciousness. I had never had them before in my life and I enjoyed every bite as my brother kicked and cried at the front screen door. Completely ignoring him, I ate the last of the cookies before we waltzed out of the house, ready to play again. I can't stand the taste of Fudgee-os anymore - guilty?

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