Something happens to Laura when she gets hungry. Just like the full moon brings out the werewolf, when Laura’s blood sugar dips, she gets cranky. It’s happened enough times that I’ve started keeping a granola bar under her seat in my car. It’s a silver bullet of sorts. In addition to the cure, I’ve also determined the best way to diagnose the ailment. I call her Betty White, after the hilarious Snickers Superbowl commercial. If she snaps when called Betty, it’s granola bar time. If she laughs it off, it’s not too late.
It was 6:30 p.m. last Thursday. We were headed home from an afterwork Costco run. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Laura made a snide remark that triggered my Betty alarm.
Me: Are you getting hungry?
Laura: It’s 6:30. Aren’t you getting hungry?
Me: Yeah, but we’ll be home in a few minutes. Hey I’ve got a granola bar if you’d like it. It’ll help to tide you over until dinner.
Laura: It won’t tide me over until dinner. It’ll spoil my dinner. I don’t want it.
I pause to choose my words carefully.
Me: Are you getting cranky?
Laura: No. I’m getting hangry.