I don't like sharing. Period. Not with my kids, not with my hubby, not even with my friends. I'm a selfish witch and I don't care. Having said that, do I share? Of course! Do as I do, not as I say, right? That's the idea anyway. I'm a greedy person by nature and I like to say that I "unwillingly" share everything I have in my life with those that I love and care about.

* I unwillingly share every fancy piece of lingerie with Taterbug because those frilly outfits make wonderful fairy costumes - and who am I kidding? Like they even fit anymore?!

* I unwillingly shared my new prescription glasses with Gun-Gun after he discovered they fit marvelously on his new monster truck.

* I unwillingly shared my last bottle of fancy smancy African body scrub with C-dub because he insisted that it smelled better on him then me. But then again, why should I complain because the kid actually used soap on his dirty little butt. It should be a revelation rather than a complaint.

* I've unwillingly shared everything with hubby, because he's done the same for me. We're quite the greedy group but it works for us.

* And finally, I've unwillingly shared my best times and my worst times with my friends because unfortunately for them, they've been there to experience them with me.

However, I have discovered a method to my madness when it comes to the concept of sharing. No longer do I pretend to act like an expert of reverse psychology, because my family is way too smart for that anymore. I now do the bait and switch (a.k.a. the divert and hide). Let me do some 'splaining...

Last Christmas, I received a delectable box of Mrs. Prindable Caramel Apples. If you're not familiar with them, either Google or search on QVC, and then order them PROMPTLY. With an intensity building in my gut, my heart beating faster, I eyeballed the box and looked for a quick escape. The kids were all watching TV so I had to make whatever I was going to do, fast. I received a couple of "Whatcha doin' Momma?s" as I ran through the house with the box clutched under my arm. I promptly answered (while huffing and puffing from the turkey trot I was doing through the kitchen into my bedroom), "Gotta a tummyache! Better not come in the bathroom for awhile!!!" I slammed my bedroom door shut, sliding the armoire in front of it (ok, maybe not but I seriously gave it a push to see if it would budge, and it wouldn't). I then got into the bathroom and locked the door. I knew that I could hear any trouble or crying through the heater vent, so the kids were safe and I was almost there... I tore that box open like a junkie opening up their hype kit. Caramel, apple bits, peanuts, and a few pieces of unknown candy were strewn about the bathroom by the time I was done. I had successfully managed to scarf and sample six assorted little golden orbs of sunlight. Life was again good and my sugar high was beyond compare...

O.K....then I woke up and I was back standing in front of the kitchen counter, eyeballing the box. No, I never did an Olympic sprint into the bathroom nor did I overdose myself on Mrs. Prindable apples. I "unwillingly" shared my gorgeous globes of goodness and promptly sat myself down in front of the TV and enjoyed my apples with my kiddos. I guess "willing" sharing is good every once in a while but I certainly don't want to make it a habit; especially since I'm so used to the "unwilling" aspect and the power it brings.