I knew that calling 911 would be pointless. How would I ever explain that, while minding my own business cutting the front lawn, my oldest daughter assaulted me with a cheese stick? And besides, even if I had wanted to, I was laughing too hard to speak clearly.
A bit of a backdrop may be of assistance in helping you to understand how the Swiss swat came to happen. Maybe a year or so ago, I came home and opened the refrigerator in search of a quick snack. There, on the top shelf at eye level, was a bite-size 3 Musketeers bar. In took me approximately 0.04 of a second to rip open the packaging, pop the minuscule morsel into my mouth and swallow it.
About an hour later, my daughter came looking for me, in a clearly agitated frame of mine. It seems I had committed a horrible transgression; that little piece of chocolate was “hers,” she had claimed it and was going to eat it later.
Ever since then, each time some piece of chocolate is “hers,” she makes a major demonstration of that fact, forbidding me from even thinking about it.
A bit over a week ago, she brought home a full-size 3 Musketeers. It had been in the vehicle for a while and had flattened out a bit due to melting. Her plan was to put it in the fridge and eat it later once it resolidified.