I'm not the only one who's bad at math

This weekend, we went to a wedding reception for my brother Smed and his new wife, Shanda. A lot of our friends and family missed the wedding in St. Croix, so this was a chance to celebrate with them.

Shanda's parents, John and Debbie, hosted the reception. They did a great job.

The reception featured lots of desserts, like red velvet cake (my nephew Johnny's favorite!), chocolate cake (Smed's favorite), and cheesecake (Shanda's fav). Debbie also put out a huge basket of caramel and chocolate covered pretzel sticks, which turned out to be Mark's favorite. (Ironic, because Mark HATES pretzels. Won't touch them, unless they're covered in caramel and chocolate, apparently.)

The pretzel sticks were individually wrapped, which was perfect for slipping them into your pockets and running off to play. I watched the huge pile dwindle over the afternoon, and eventually, when I saw Mark swoop in for the fourth or fifth time, I called him on it.

He smiled and ran out to the garage. I followed the little stinker.

"Let me have it," I said, holding out my hand.

"What?" he asked, flashing me another huge grin. He slipped behind my mom--he knows Grandma will protect him.

"Hand over the pretzel stick," I repeated. "You've had enough."

"I don't have any!" he protested, and then, in the same breath, he cried, "I just have one!"

And of course, Grandma did step in.

"He said he doesn't have any," she said, in her most protective-Grandma voice ever.

"No," I clarified. "He said he has ONE. And that one is, like, his FIFTH pretzel!"

"Let him have it," my mom said, all sympathetic. THIS is the Grandma the kids love, the one who passes out cookies in pairs, saying, "One for each hand!"

I sighed. Once my mom and Mark team up, there's no beating them. I had to play equally dirty.

"OK," I sighed. "You win."

I knew what was coming, so I didn't stray too far away.

"That looks good," my sweet-toothed mom told Mark. "Go get me one."

"There aren't any more," I said. "The kids ate them all."

Then I smiled and stood back, ready to watch the fireworks.

"They're gone," I said. 

"Then give me that!" my mom said to Mark. She held out her hand, and with a sigh, he handed over the pretzel stick.

I just smiled. I realized that if you just wait it out, sometimes you actually can beat the bad math--and the Mark/Grandma team.