Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The Whole Foods Cookie Party

A guest post from Mr. Marketing Mommy (Josh)

A while back Alma encouraged me to sign the kids up for the Whole Foods cookie club, a genius marketing move that rewards badge wearers with a free cookie every time they go to Whole Foods. Way to hook them early, right? Usually no one in the store has any idea what I'm talking about, but eventually we make our way to the keeper of the cookie and grab a house-baked chocolate chip to keep Z happy on the way home (and ruin her appetite).

The other day, however, Alma forwarded an email announcing a cookie club decorating party, and while I had the kids set up watching Singin' in the Rain (a great alternative to the usual Disney crap, by the way), I decided, what the heck, I'll bring both of them to Whole Foods to buy a loaf of bread for dinner, and let them decorate some cookies. A, mind you, had more or less skipped her nap, since she slept on the way to the Kohl Children's Museum that morning, so she was pretty wired. First she wanted to ride in the main part of the cart, then the seat, then back in the cart, then walking (and running) through the store by herself (though never far away). By the time we made it to the decorating station, she was pretty amped.

Except that there was no decorating station, at least not where it was supposed to be. A helpful mom let us know that the cookie lady didn't think anyone would show, so was in back scrambling for supplies. Um, ok. So Z and A take their spots at the table along side two other girls much, much older than them and wait as the cookie lady brings out a bunch of supplies, one plate after another. First, coloring books and stickers. Then sprinkles. Then a big batch of sugar cookies and oatmeal raisin cookies. Then, when people told her they were oatmeal raisin and not chocolate chip, a big pile of chocolate chip cookies, too. And then chocolate chips. And then nasty vegan frosting that looked like Vaseline. And then organic gummy bears. Then sour gummy worms. Then giant marshmallows. Then, when she noticed they were giant, little marshmallows, too. Then two big tubs of vanilla and chocolate butter cream snagged from the bakery.

Z was cool, excited about her task, but A went bonkers. With each plate, her eyes got bigger, and she started more or less taking a nibble from everything, one after the other, with me policing as best I could by moving each plate placed before her across the table before she could go totally crazy. Which of course made her crazier, seeing this stuff tantalizingly out of reach. The whole late set up had taken nearly 25 minutes, too, well past the posted start time, so by the time everything was ready to go she was basically ready to go, too. Or at least I was. I told Z to quickly wrap it up (by then her cookies were teetering piles of colorful candy that dwarfed the cookies below) because her sister's head was about to explode. Z can be unreasonable, but I think she recognized it was better to quit while she was ahead, take her cookies and swag, and hit the road.

Needless to say, Z spent all dinner looking forward to the cookies, while A ... totally forgot they existed. Which left more for Alma and I not to eat, because, well, they were pretty gross.