What did you want when you were in fourth grade? For me, cookies were at the top of my list. Forget about stressing over school pictures, grades, and basically everything. Plant a heaping plateful of steaming Snicker doodles in front of me, and I was an ecstatic ten-year-old. If someone invited you to a mother daughter cookie party, what would you think? Doesn’t the image of floral apron clad women and children playing with flour and cookie cutters come to mind? Yeah, I thought so too.

Pet peeves are kind of weird. I mean what’s a peeve? Why is it your pet? Well, I don’t know if this a peeve of my pet or whatever, but man does it bug me. Someone invites you to their house. No harm there right, just a little get together? The hosts give these gatherings innocent names such as “cookie party”, “purse party”, “garden party” and the like. What really jerks my chain about these is that the hostess is usually heavily encouraging her guests to purchase, because the more they buy, the more free stuff she gets. The worst part is that you feel obligated to buy some ugly necklace with a weird name for $36.99. I hate parties that try to sell you stuff!

So back to the Cookie Party. I was invited by Friend A (who will remain nameless for the purpose of this paper) to her house on a Friday for a Mother-Daughter Cookie Party. Seriously, I thought there would be cookies. I arrived with my mother in tow on a icy March evening. As a stepped into the house exciting myself for the warm nutty smell of baking cookies. Instead I inhaled well, house-smell. Thinking back on this memory, I probably looked like a house-smelling freak. Friend A greeted me at the door. She informed me the kids were all downstairs. I was so confused. Then it all clicked. Mom of Friend A was trying to sell the other moms cookie baking supplies. There would be no cookies. A pet peeve was born that night.

Getting over my grief for a moment I obdiently followed Friend A down to the “kid cave” The rest of the evening was a snooze. Literally, I fell asleep in a stiff red been bag chair watching Kenan and Kel re-runs on NICK@Nite. At the end of the party I got in the van with Mommy. She looked tired too. I asked her how the party was. She sighed and told me she bought a twenty-six dollar ceramic cookie pan. What? I thought to myself? Is it made out of adobe or something!?

The pan came in the mail a month later. It wasn’t much bigger than my Lisa Frank pencil case! My mom used it once or twice. If she squeezed she could fit about 7 cookies on that thing. Two months later my brother stacked some bowls on the pan in an awkward position. AdobePan broke; and I wasn’t sad to see it go. That was my last solicitation party for a while.

I must admit I have been to a few other parties like the Mistakencookiefiasco of ‘03, but everytime I go I have to bite my tongue. I think to myself,”this junk is over-priced, cheaply made, and you are my friend, so how much for the: automatic nut chopper/ decorative centerpiece/ jewel encrusted brooch shaped like a sea lion?I hate parties that sell you stuff!