The Pie Burglar

This is Josh's new nickname for me. Sadly, I think it will outlive me. So here's what happened:

Out of the kindness of my heart, I made a coconut creme pie for the fam. We started it last night. Rebekah was not interested. Happily, half was left today. Rebekah had her usual ice cream for dessert after dinner tonight and all was well. Mom, Dad, Josh, and I each had our own pieces of pie. They were delicious. Serendipitously for Rebes, she angled for a slice of pie prior to the last piece's disappearance. She ate a few morsels and mostly scraped the whipped cream off the top. We talked about how she NEVER actually eats pie. (you know where I'm going with this, don't you?) Mom starts reaching for the plate and I realize that the last little piece is about to get thrown away. Throwing my diet to the wind, I quickly snatch the plate and stuff the glorious crust and filling in my mouth. My mom was outraged (not really) because evidently that had been her plan, too! She and I were crying we were laughing so hard...crying so much that we were completely unaware of Rebekah...apparently, she was not finished with the pie and she let out the loudest wail I have ever heard (the kind that requires a 10-second wind-up), followed by "I want my pie!" over and over again. Rebekah was inconsolable in every way for the rest of the evening. We tried more ice cream, a cupcake, whipped cream in the shape of pie with coconut sprinkled on top, Sour Patch Kids...nothing replaced her "big pie." Every time she saw me, she (through tears) pitifully asked me, "Pie? Pie? Pie?? Pie??? I want my big pie." I have never been able not to console my child. The worst part was that I was at fault. I am confident that her first words upon awaking tomorrow morning will be "Mommy ate my pie."