My Son, the Radioactive Squirrel

Peanut butter. As I sat down in front of my computer today I found a half-eaten jar of Jif Creamy Peanut Butter partially hidden behind the monitor. And I knew exactly how it got there. Since about age three, my now nine-year old son has had what seems to be an irresistible inclination to sneak food from the pantry and then hide it where he thinks his parents won’t find it. We usually come across his hidden treasures in the course of our daily activities–the bag of chocolate chips in the shoe basket, the crackers in his closet, the jar of pickles under a blanket near the television. But not always. As the family member with the most keen sense of smell, I am usually the first to wrinkle his nose at the rancid stench of the things that have been hidden for a little too long. An almost-empty package of hot dogs in the piano bench compartment. The open jug of milk–now a toxic blend of cottage cheese and something yellow–behind the planter. The formerly frozen roll of cookie dough behind the toilet!

For a time we thought it was cute. A very short time. We’ve tried to get him to stop. We’ve scolded, spanked (softly), screamed (not so softly), and incentivized. But nothing works. He’s like a small animal who instinctively stores food for the winter. And let me just say that he doesn’t pay much attention to the expiration dates or “refrigerate after opening” instructions either. I’ve seen him eat things that should have made him glow in the dark. Things that should have given him a reverse atomic colonic. But nothing seems to phase or affect him. Frequently we don’t find his concealed treasures until they’ve morphed into something else, but he always knows where they are. So in the words of Toucan Sam, sometimes you just have to “follow your nose.”

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