Dare I say life was simpler then?

I was reading a wonderful post this morning, chuckling to myself because it wasn't my children, and then I rememebered this. 

The following is a repost from August 2006.  It was originally titled, A bedtime tale for you.  This is a true story.  And I bring it to you in honor of Mother's Day. 

I was 29 with only three kids:  4 1/2, almost 3, and a 1 year old.  We were living in the Frozen North.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, in a place too close to home, there were two lonely cups of orange JELL-O ®. These two orange JELL-O cups aspired to greatness and would discuss daily how they could achieve such a lofty goal.

One beautiful summer day at noon they were greeted with the opportunity when two willing participants, Gabbers and Pookie, came into their lives. Gabbers and Pookie were the perfect subjects to help them. For you see, Gabbers and Pookie rarely came in contact with orange JELL-O —for that matter, JELL-O of any flavor.

This beautiful summer day started with a very nice combined neighborhood yard sale with Pookie and Gabbers’s mommy and Ben’s mommy. Pookie and Gabbers had lots of fun playing with the neighbor children, Adam and Ben during the yard sale.

As lunchtime approached, Adam’s mommy brought out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Adam. Suddenly Pookie, Gabbers, and even toddler Ben, jumped poor Adam like a pack of wolves trying to devour his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Adam’s mommy decided to make one for each of them. Pookie, Gabbers, Ben and Adam happily and somewhat messily enjoyed their own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As Pookie and Gabbers were finishing up their sandwiches, their mommy told them it was time to go home for naps. Adam’s mommy told them they could each take a cup of orange JELL-O with them if it was okay with their mommy. Pookie and Gabbers’s mommy agreed.

Pookie and Gabbers were elated to have such a yummy treat after such a fun morning. They happily skipped across the lawn back to their house. As Pookie and Gabbers got inside, their mommy opened their orange JELL-O cups for them and had a teeny-tiny spoonful out of each one (to check for doneness of course) and sat them (Pookie and Gabbers) down at the dining table to eat.

Their mommy said, “Pookie and Gabbers, I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get Bun from Adam’s mommy and bring him home. Stay right here with your orange JELL-O.”

Foolish Mommy should’ve said,

“Eat your orange JELL-O.  And do not get out of your chairs.  Please don’t decide it’s a good idea to lock the screen door as soon as Mommy leaves the house and then shut the front door and not know how to open it again. And if you can sense that Mommy and Adam’s mommy are concerned when they are talking to you through the door and then later through the window and air conditioner and you then realize you’re home alone and locked inside with four men trying to take off the screen storm door including Daddy’s former commander, do not decide it would be a grand idea to smear orange JELL-O all over the dining chairs, the entryway, the kitchen, and the stairs, Mommy’s special memory quilt, and Mae. You see, kitties don’t like to be covered in super sticky orange JELL-O.”

Pookie and Gabbers sadly have been forbidden to partake of orange JELL-O for a very, very, very, very, very long time. But there is a happy ending . . .

Mommy’s floors have now been mopped for the third time in 24-hours and they are super-clean. And they all lived happily ever after . . . well, until naptime was over.

Ask the Audience

How do you deal with a playground bully?  Do you talk to him/them yourself?  Do you go straight to the parents?  Do you stay out of it?  What if they threaten to burn your Pookie's face off if he doesn't leave?  Is it okay for your Momma Bear claws to come out then?

This is a first for us in Pookieville.  I need advice.

The price of toast.

Pookie asked me a couple minutes ago if I wanted a piece of toast.  He even asked if I wanted butter on it.  What a thoughtful boy!  I thanked him and smiled to myself thinking, I'm so glad I taught him how to use the toaster oven.

Then I smelled a smell I have never smelled before but instantly knew what it was-- a smell that caused my stomach to turn and me to leap out of my computer chair to the rescue.

A quarter bag of peanut butter M&M's were dying on top of the toaster oven.

I guess when you're only 8 years old and particularly small for your age, you can't see the top of the toaster oven. 

The apple doesn't fall far . . .

It must be in the blood.  Today I heard yelling from the girls (Gabbers & friend), "Blood!  He's bleeding!"  Bun joined in, "Pookie cut his finger and it's bleeding!"

I went to find Pookie and sure enough his finger was bleeding.  It wasn't so bad or very deep.  It was just about 1/4 inch cut.  I asked him how he got it and he said, "From the glass in my experiment kit."

"Oh?  How did the glass break?" I asked thinking it was some sort of battery-powered-whatever with too much energy that broke it.

"I bit it."  You what?!

"I bit it," he explained, "... the light bulb."

Say what?!  "You bit a light bulb? Why?!"

"I dunno."

Maybe light bulbs should come with warnings.

January did not go unnoticed in Pookieville.

Tomorrow I start my month of service.  I haven't decided yet if I'm going to publicly blog it though like my friend Julie.  I might just blog that I did it that day.  Perhaps it will be a blurb at the bottom of my posts.  Or if I'm thinking it's particularly share-worthy and I need blog-fodder for the day, then I'll post about it. 

Anyways, this post is dedicated to a bunch of firsts from the first month of the new decade.  Not all have pictures.  

Our first mud-fight.  I suppose it had to happen eventually having five boys and all.  Sorry neighbor Bill if you heard all the things these four mud-laden children are grounded from.  At least I was level-headed enough to get a picture.Why yes, those are school clothes on Gabbers and Pookie.

On the 16th of January, Danny baptized Pookie, our first child, into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. 

Pookie's first Pinewood Derby. His car got the "Most Character" award, made it across the finish line, and didn't even come in last! Hurray!

This little guy on top did have to undergo surgery to hold all the pennies.  But he's okay.  Danny's a good surgeon.

Yesterday Albertson's was having a sale on these items for $1.39 each if you buy five.  I had three transactions of five at Albertson's.  Then I went to Wal-Mart where I experienced my FIRST price-matching!  I've never price-matched before.  I got the granola bars and syrup there.  Wal-Mart, even though your bags are less-than-ideal quality, your willingness to match any advertised price ROCKS!  It was an awesome feeling.  My name's Nikki and I'm addicted to bargains.

I used dehydrated potato slices for the first time.  I couldn't find a lot of info online about it.  So if anyone has any recipes with dehydrated potato slices they'd like to share, I'd love to have them!

Gabbers and friend on their first TWIN day at school.  The first time they got to go to school in non-uniform clothes (well, not if you count Halloween-- but she was sick with the Swine Flu).  Gabbers said about the red shirt, "I thought we were going to have the same color shirt."  I told her, "You're fraternal twins." 

Squdge and Tater tried their first rice cereal this month too.  I thought Danny was taking pictures of it, but he was filming it.  And I cannot seem to figure out how to put videos on my blog.  So you'll just have to imagine babies plastered in rice cereal. 

I got my first offer through the blog!  It is from Hometownseeds.com.  I know it's not like a Wii or a year supply of toilet paper, but I am THROUGH THE ROOF EXCITED because now I have survival seeds for my food storage.  My kids are begging me to plant them instead of saving them.  Right now, Hometown Seeds are offering a 10% discount as a way of saying Thanks for helping to build their business.  Just enter the coupon code thanks from now through February 28, 2010, and 10% will be reduced from the total cost of any order. 

I'm not sure how to do a disclaimer "properly."  But here goes my first disclaimer:  I have received a pack of Survival Seeds in exchange for putting their link on my blog.  (It's over there --------> in the right sidebar if you're looking for it.)  When I do decide to plant them, or buy other seeds to plant, I will type up my own thoughts on them that may or may not be the same as your own experience with them.  I'm sure seeds are choking hazards for children under three.  So keep out of reach of Gremlins.

How's that? 

A very long post about why I will never again pray for help on handling my overwhelming life

A note:  It has recently been brought to my attention that someone, who shall remain nameless, read this and interpreted it to mean that I am depressed. I am not depressed. That's sweet of her to be concerned.  But there's a big difference between overwhelming temporary circumstances and depression. I am happy.  Truly I am.  And so is Danny.  We don't go through an entire day not having experienced many moments of happiness and thanking Heavenly Father for our many MANY blessings. I thank you all for your kind words and comments. The blog is such a fantastic form of therapy. Just like in olden days (haha) when women needed to talk to other women and feel better, I can do that now with the blog as well. Blessings to you all!

On Friday, December 18th, the twins will be four months old.  Monday I was agonizing over the exhausting process it is to feed them.  I pump because they cannot nurse.  Three-quarters of their feedings are breastmilk with the remaining one-fourth being formula.  I feel guilty that I am not providing 100% of their food.  I maintain hope that after their initial surgery to correct the posterior tongue-tie (originally scheduled for November 2nd and post-poned due to Swine Flu) that they will show promise and improved nursing skill.  But they have absolutely no desire to nurse.  And the odds are not stacked in their favor with the tongue-tie and the tight jaws. 

So regularly I agonize and re-evaluate how much longer I am willing to let my house go to pot and the other children watch hours of Blue's Clues every day while the oldest two are in *gasp* public school.  (They are actually doing quite well and I think it was the right choice given our circumstances.)  Anyways, can I make it at least one more week?  Could I make it to five months?  What about six months?  If I make it to six months then they will be starting solid foods.  If I quit, will I feel horribly guilty and cry for a year?  Or will my hormones chill and finally level out and I regain a wee bit of sanity? 

Blah.  Blah.  Blah.

So I reasoned that I could at least go another week until their surgery that is scheduled for the 21st.  Then I'd give it a week after that to heal.  And then an additional week for them to at least show interest in learning to nurse. 

But now, we are sick again.  And so the surgery must be post-poned.  Again. 

Just when I thought that perhaps these sniffles and colds would go away, my oldest comes down with pinworms.  ew.  EW. 

So I'm thinking, my Heavenly Father has a sense of humor and is helping me see how "easy" my life was before pinworms.  I'm thinking all this as I chuckle washing the 11th load of laundry on hot water, vacuuming everything in between buzzers and sanitizing all hard surfaces as well, reading up on the "condition" as I pump and feeling fully violated for doing so.

Ahh.  Kids finally settle into bed, I have a loaf of Italian French bread baking in the bread machine (something I do about once a year) the twins are taking turns being fed, burped, cuddled, while I talk to my older sister, Leslie, about very cool goals for the New Year.   

Then I heard a whimper.  I sneak into the three older boys' room to check it out.  It's Hammie.  He's not coherent and he's fussing trying to cover himself up again.  I cover him up and realize he's radiating heat through his blanket.  I grab the Motrin and the syringe and the thermometer.  I dose him and then check his temp.  104.4.  I'm a little panicked at this point.  I write it down and decide to check again in half an hour.  Then I check Bun's temp.  105.9.  I call Danny at work and babble on about Bun's brain burning up and such stuff.  He tells me to dose him too and to call the on-call doctor.  I dose Bun and check Gabbers temp.  104.9.  I dose her as well.  Her cheeks are rosy pink and so are her lips.  She begs for a drink of water sounding like she's going to burst into tears.  I get her water and Danny calls back.  I haven't called the doc yet.  Danny says he's on the way home.  I call the doctor and he says, "Get them to the ER immediately!"

Ugh.  I pivot on my left foot for about a minute before my brain kicks into gear and I decide what I need to do. 

I end up taking three high-fevered children to the ER at midnight with their favorite blankies.  I chuckle on the way there.  Pumping every two hours until the twins are six months old will be cake without Swine Flu, Pinworms, and freakishly high fevers in the middle of the night causing ER runs. 

no picture. good reason.

Tonight my baby sister Rachel is coming to visit with her adoring hubby and their four adorable children.  And I don't just say that cuz they're my nieces and nephews.  Really, they should be in pictures.  Anyhow, not the point of my post.

Yesterday the plan was to clean my house.  Once upon a time, when my third child was just a newborn, I was able to get my house company-ready within 15 minutes.  I was a devoted FlyLady follower.  I did the routines.  I found great joy in the maintaining of a clean home.  But that was also when all three of those children napped for at least two hours every single day. 

Now I have six kids and a pinch of sanity left.  I have learned to lower my standards- so to say.  And yesterday, ah yesterday, child #4, the two year old, a.k.a. Hammy, a.k.a. The Destroyer, would NOT sleep.  And you know what else?  My mom doesn't want me to send him to her.  *sigh*

So, at one point I decided to clean up my bathroom floors.  I have been neglectful of the bathroom floors for some time.  But whenever we have company, they get a good mopping-- especially around the base of the toilets. 

As I was getting up close and personal with the outside of the toilet bowl and the floor, my hair kept falling in my face.  I had it originally pulled up in a claw clip.  But it's very long now, waist-length to be exact, and quite thick.  An unsuspecting claw clip is no match for my head of hair.  I was annoyed.  irritated.  I didn't want Lemon Pine-Sol scented hair.  I didn't want toilet bowl soaked hair.  I decided to put it in a tight bun at the nape of my neck. 

I pulled off my yellow rubber gloves, took the claw clip out of my hair, and brushed it out.  This resulted in great gobs of hair stuck in my brush and falling all over the bathroom floor.  (These things seem to happen 3 months post-partum with me.)  Still, there was a more than adequate amount of hair still on my head (more than enough for a few people I'd guess).  I smoothed my hair back into a bun and then started to clean up the hair that was in the sink, on the counter, and on the floor.  I swept it up and then cleaned out the broom.

I readied myself to continue the cleaning by pulling on my yellow gloves and pouring a fresh bowl of Pine-Sol.  I squeezed out the washcloth and used it to clean the floor.  Then I had to pull hair out of the washcloth as I was trying to rinse it in the newly cleaned sink.  I was so irritated!  My hair was ruining my life!  All the ways that my hair inconveniences me and ruins my life came to mind.

At the very fastest, I can shampoo and condition my hair in 15 minutes.  That is the fastest.  And then I have to use like a third of the bottle of conditioner.  As I rinse my hair I have to pull tons of it out of my fingers as it's coming loose and make sure it doesn't go down the drain and cause quite the clog.

In the laundry, the hair gets stuck in the washing machine right inside the door in this little rubber lip thing.  It gets clogged and doesn't work so well.

It gets stuck in the vacuum because it's so long and wraps tightly around the beater bar.

If I don't have time to do my hair, (and let's be honest, I don't have time) it usually ends up in a very untidy claw clip or a bun-- looking oh-so matronly.  Even to church.

What is the point to this never ending post?  I chopped it off today.  Fourteen inches.  By myself.  And it looks it. 

Thanksgiving Prep: Thaw the turkey & plan for kid activities

The Thanksgiving preparation that I do today is clean the fridge, toss out the scary leftovers, and take the turkey out of the freezer. I usually forget until Sunday and find that it's not thawed on Thanksgiving morning. I am a wee bit nervous about it thawing too fast. So I put it in a brown paper bag in the fridge. I'm also squeamish about it thawing and dripping all over everything else and giving us food poisoning. Raw turkey-blood flavored leftover Freschetta pizza is naaaaaaasty.  Not that I would know. 

Planning for kid activities to keep them out from under foot on Thanksgiving morning is a must.  Whether or not we have company coming with children, it's helpful to plan things that are not in the way of the dining table or the kitchen traffic for my children.  I've seriously considered hiring a bored teenager to come play in the backyard with them this year. 

Here an oink, there an oink, everywhere an oink oink!

I was just thinking to myself last week, I'm done with being sick.  That translates to:  I'm done with the horrible cold everyone had for two weeks just two weeks before the three middle kids got H1N1, the Swine Flu.  Danny and I have been under-the-weather as well the entire time.  Of course, it's hard to say if it's just lingering with us because of lack of sleep.  SEVERE lack of sleep.  Time to sanitize.

I washed and disinfected sippy cups and lids, bottles and pumps, doorknobs, light switches, counters, floors, etc.  I washed bedding and laundry and just plum wore myself out.

Then Friday afternoon, the fever started with Baby A, who shall hereafter be known in Bloggityville as Q. Mouse.  He showed absolutely no other signs of being sick-- just a fever of 100.2.  Saturday afternoon Baby B, who shall now be known in Bloggityville as Squdge (pronounced:  nudge but with a "skwa" sound.), started his fever.

I just got back from the doctor and they both have Swine Flu.  *sigh*

No worries.  This too shall pass.  Go over to There's a Hole in the Earth and read this blog post that my awesome hubby wrote for me.  He's so cool; I invited him to join my blog.  So you might read him here sometimes as well.

Which of the following was a lie?

Which of the following is a lie?

1. Danny said to Baby A (who yes has a name), "You are your own worst enemy." 6 votes

2. Nikki went to the doctor with visible homemade nursing pads showing through a stained white shirt that had multiple holes. 1 vote

3. There are 7 loads of clean laundry in my room waiting to be folded. 15 votes

The answer . . .

3. There were 8 loads. . . and 2 on the couch. Ahh, you guys can't be tricked.

And why is it, by the way, that only one person doubted number 2? Just what kind of a person do you think I am?

1. Baby A was flailing about and kept popping his pacifier out of his mouth and getting mad about it. Danny said that to him. I warned him should things like this be uttered from his mouth that they will be blogged.

2. Obviously I was sick if I was going to the doctor. At least I didn't leak through the shirt like my previous week's visit to the commissary. But oh, those embarrassing circles showed through and I didn't even know it until later. Nor did I notice the holes in the shirt until I got home. I did discover the stains while I was waiting in the office though. :P

3. I've been exhausted getting used to two new babies and all that goes with it. The laundry gets backed up into giant piles in no time at all. By the time that evening rolls around and children are all asleep and I'm done for the time pumping bre*stmilk, I just don't feel like doing laundry. So I watch episodes of Lost on Netflix. or I read blogs. I'm trying to moderate it a little though so I don't get overwhelmed.

We are not homeless.

I am well beyond the soccer ball or basketball stage. It is OBVIOUS I swallowed a beach ball. I had a dear friend say to me once, "Twins! I always wanted twins. It's like two for the price of one." And may I just say in response to that, not that she reads my blog, I'm sure she doesn't, but in my own personal opinion of course since all pregnancies are different, it is not the price of one. It may be the same length of time as one, but you definitely pay for two. Or at least I do.


To clarify from previous post's comments, I don't have any new stretchmarks. I have stretchmarks that have long since faded from my pregnancy with Pookie. I just don't have any new ones. And I'm expecting to get some. I'm only 22 weeks and 6 days and feeling like a beached whale. I'm bound to get larger. But the funny thing is, I'm one pound less than I was at my first appointment. But I am definitely large with life. Two more days until my long-awaited ultrasound.

Yes, I have been homeschooling Pookie. I'm not sure if this is that path that we will continue on when the twins are born. I might send Gabbers to Kindergarten at the school on base and continue to homeschool Pookie next year. We'll see.

We are not homeless anymore. We have decided home-buying isn't for us right now. We accepted a 4-bedroom home on base. It is tiny compared to our home in North Dakota. This past Thursday our household goods were delivered. It looks like we need to have a major yard sale.

I can't wait to get organized. I've been trying desperately to get the kitchen in order and hopefully fill my freezer before I end up on bed rest. But the freezer is hidden somewhere in the stomach of the garage right now behind dozens of boxes of books and food storage and out of season clothes. This morning I decided I was going to make bread since it's been since March since I've baked any. It was a little worrisome when I realized I haven't yet unpacked my measuring spoons and have no idea where they are. I hope it still turns out.

Happy Memorial Day to you all! I'll try to find the power cord to update some pics of our chaotic home, growing children, and of course, the ever-growing belly.

Kiddie Kwip: Crack

Gabbers observing Bun climbing onto the couch, "Bun, I see your crack. That's not modest."

Bun, totally freaked out that he has a crack, "Mommy, Gabbers said I have a crack. I need a band-aid!"

I tried to reassure him she didn't mean an "owie" or a cut and it was just his bum she was talking about. He seemed satisfied. I thought everything was okay.

Later Bun came up to me concerned about this crack somewhere on his lower back. I tried showing him what Gabbers was talking about. He seemed to understand. I thought everything was okay.

Later that evening when Danny came home from work, Bun said to him with a sad face, "Daddy, I have a crack." Danny stifled a laugh and gave me an inquisitive look as if asking me to explain. I told him. Bun was still upset about this whole crack ordeal until Danny explained to him that everyone has a crack and it's just where your bum is. He said, "Sometimes people call it a bum crack." I thought everything was finally okay.

Sunday, my friend came to sit by the kids and me during sacrament to help out. She's sweet and nice and doesn't have children yet. Bun was shy at first smiling at her, not saying much. Eventually he started whispering to her about all sorts of things. Bun got more comfortable and was talking in his normal three year old voice. When out of the blue, Bun declared LOUDLY, "Everybody has bum crack!"

The relocating of Pookieville

For all ye speculators, we will be relocating Pookieville to the central coast of California. Yes, it's much warmer. We will be sad to leave our friends and the safety here in the Frozen North. We are excited for the weather where we are going. I personally am very excited for the wonderful hospital near our new home. Gabbers was delivered there over five years ago.

Pookieville needs a new name- since Pookie is not the only resident. Any suggestions?

Today in numb3rs

4 days- Danny leaves for training

5 weeks- the length of the training

1715 miles- the distance to the training

15 days- time after Danny returns back to the Frozen North to pack up and move family

1800- how many miles to our new base

3- number of pounds I've lost since being pregnant

2- number of babies I'm still carrying

9 weeks 1 day- what the bigger baby is measuring

8 weeks 4 days- what the baby who lost her roommate is measuring

1- number of preschoolers I'm potty-training

253,987- number of jelly beans I've used for bribery in the potty training

139- number of dishes sitting in my sink (and on the high chair, dining table, and countertops) while I blog

30- how many minutes MAX I can go without food

Ooh! Shiny red and green ornaments!

Oh. my. goodness. Remember this post? Well here's one for today.

"Stop licking the ornaments! That's nasty." (But you gotta say nasty like naaaaaasty)

Half a dozen things you probably don't need to know.

These happened in the past few weeks. If this doesn't turn your stomach and make you look away (from my blog), come back on Friday as I'll have a new look, and renewed commitment to blogging. ;)


1. Was so desperate while grocery shopping that I opened a package of snacks (that I hadn't purchased yet) for Hammy so he'd stop screaming.


2. Pinned a note to Pookie's coat that said, "I have a book, homework, and Bailey's stuff (classroom bear) in my bag," so that he'd remember to take them out and not miss recess- again.

3. Opened a letter from the downtown library demanding we give them the books back or give up our first born son.


4. said, "If you don't stop crying I'll give you something to cry about."


5. missed Parent-teacher conferences


6. asked someone else to shovel our driveway- well, had Danny ask someone else- cuz I'm chicken (and Danny had to call long distance from Colorado to do it)

and make that 7. wrote a bunch of fragments and blogged them.

One to go please! kiddie kwip

Bun: Mommy, we need to go buy a girl baby.

Me: Bun, we don't buy babies. They come from Heavenly Father.

Bun: Oh, then we need to go get one from Heavenly Father- cuz I need a girl baby.

Pookieville Update and a PRIZE!

Alright! I'll blog. Sometimes I get in a blogging rut and don't feel like I have anything worth blogging. Then time passes and I realize that my next post better be pretty darn funny. And if it's not, well then I better have some cute pictures of my kids. Then I start to feel guilty because I've been tagged four times. (at least that I know of) Then I start to wonder if I've lost my four faithful readers.

So, if you're still with me, here's an update.

1. Pookie's reading on a 3.5 to 4th grade level.

2. His teacher thinks he has Aspergers.

3. We've gone through 4 jars of peanut butter since school started.

4. I lost 5 pounds in 2 1/2 weeks. :)

5. I'm thinking about dusting off the treadmill and bringing it in the house.

6. I'm NOT pregnant, Jenny.

7. This morning it was 32 degrees.

8. I don't walk Pookie in to his class in the mornings anymore.

9. Bun's Halloween shirt scares him and so he can't have it in his room at night.

10. Pookie's Halloween shirt was such a distraction that his teacher called and had me bring him a less-exciting one.

11. Gabbers was so upset she had a THIRTY minute tantrum because I wouldn't let her wear ALL her Halloween clothes together. Seriously, they did NOT match.

12. I've taken the kids to library story time downtown the last two Wednesdays.

13. I let them play with Play-Doh three days in a row. That's a big step for me.

14. I've beaded two dozen pairs of socks.

15. I've mulled over prices for the socks, shipping, and an official website.

16. I'm giving away one pair of socks. They will be Halloween Fun (opaque orange and black tri-beads, and transparent lime and purple tri-beads) design. The winner can pick from the following sizes:

0-6 month size (will be single beaded for this size)

6-18 months

18-36 months

shoe size (small) 6 - 2 1/2

shoe size (medium) 10 1/2-4

shoe size (large) 3-10

To enter, you must leave a comment on this post.

What is that smell?

Pookieville residents aren't keeping anything in. Be back soon. hopefully.

What's gooey on the inside and crusty on the outside?

My Pookie is in first grade now and attends public school. Sometimes it is hard for him to remember to eat his sandwich first. He regularly asks for peanut butter and Aunty Leslie's peach jam sandwich, milk, and raisins. If I pack goldfish, fruit snacks, or juice, he neglects his sandwich. So I tell him if he eats his lunch he can have special snacks after school. He asks me every day if I wrote a note for him to read in his lunch. Usually I take a page out of my planner and carefully write a note using D'nealian-- the type of handwriting he is learning in school. It usually says:

Dear Pookie,

I hope you are having fun today at school learning new things. I know you will remember your rules and good manners in the classroom and at recess. I will pick you up at 3:15 p.m. Be good.

Love,
Mommy

Today I took the opportunity to capitalize on his ability to read and his enjoyment of rhymes and riddles to brainwash him into eating the sandwich first.

Dear Pookie,

Today for lunch before you munch, you first must solve a riddle.
The thing to eat, is not a treat. Eat the food with jam in the middle.
It has isosceles triangles. There’s two of them—a pair.
And one more clue I have for you, these two things make a square.

The liquid you will be drinking is not juice – so you know,
The chemical symbol for your drink is actually H2O.
It falls from the sky, when weather’s dry and gives our plants a drink,
You wash your hands and dishes too, and your body when you stink.

One more snack, that I did pack, are packed in a little red box,
They are chewy and small and help you grow tall, they do not taste like rocks.
They don’t need to stay cold. I keep them on top of the place the keeps cold foods good.
California is printed right on the box. Eat them last-- as I said that you should.

I will come to your school when you are all through with your day of learning and fun.
I can’t wait to see, which boy waits for me, it’s you my first born son!

Love,
Mommy