This past Saturday was my sister’s graduation party, and Mem spent most of the day inside because of the 90 degree weather. We set out snacks and things like chicken and roast beef upstairs where she was, but strategically placed the desserts downstairs (we caught her sneaking chocolate covered strawberries into her pockets before the party). We severely underestimated her determination that day.
When she noticed people coming upstairs with cookies and cheesecake on their plates, she began plotting her journey to sugar-induced bliss. I think she may have started hallucinating from her dessert deprivation because she nearly had a heart attack when my dad finished off the last of the roast beef (she thought it was chocolate cake). She bided her time until the coast was clear and made her way down the stairs. Now in the three years that she has lived with us, she has never bothered to see what was down there. Partly because of her lack of energy, but mostly because of the downstairs’ usual lack of cake.
When my dad noticed where she was, he knew immediately what she was up to.
Dad: Why are you down here Mem?
Mem: Oh! I started going down the hall [the stairs] and before I knew it I didn’t know where I was! I’ve never been down here before.
Dad: You’re sure it had nothing to do with the sweets?
Lesson learned: Never underestimate the mobility of an 89 year old chocoholic.