I walked over in her direction with anxious anticipation and managed to blurt out a greeting.

"Hi, there," I said, with all the charm I could muster.

"Hi, mister," she replied. "Wanna buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

I suppose I'm just a sucker, but they get me every year. And it's all because they simply don't fight fair. First of all, they're all adorable little girls with big, brown eyes. And as if that's not enough, they have boxes and boxes of delicious cookies. A guy doesn't stand a chance.

They caught me outside of Safeway the other day. And in the Not Fighting Fair Department, these were the cutest little girls of them all--the 6-, 7- and 8-year-old Brownies.

So even though my wife, Natalie, told me not to, even though my doctor cautions me against it and even though I know better, I was standing in front of the folding table getting ready to buy (and of course eat) Girl Scout cookies.

"So, what's the best kind?" I asked the three little girls behind the table. I wasn't surprised to get three different answers.

"I like the Peanut Butter Sandwiches," said the one with the big, brown eyes.

"No, the Lemon Pastry Cremes are better," countered the little blond-haired girl.

"But the best of all are the Fudge-Dipped Shortbreads," surmised the little girl with the long, black hair.

Just to help me make up my mind the mom handling the cash box confided, "The Thin Mints are the most popular."

Well that didn't make my decision any easier. There were eight different types of cookies on the table, and they all looked pretty good to me.

"So, what kind should I get?" I asked none of the girls in particular.

"Get 'em all," suggested the blonde. (She definitely should consider a career in sales--I'll have to recommend her to Noemi, our retail advertising manager.) Then she added, "Get 20 million!" (OK, so maybe that's just a little overselling.)

I quickly did the math. Twenty million times $3.50, divided into my checkbook--hmmm, that would just about empty out that account. Anyway, I wasn't quite sure I could fit 20 million boxes of cookies in my car. So I decided to go with her first suggestion.

"I'll take one of each," I said, and the girls squealed with delight. The moms, though, gave me that, "OK, Porky, do you want them in a bag or will you eat them here?" look.

Before any of them could actually say it, I blurted, "I'm going to take them to the office and share them with the people at work."

"Oh, sure you are," said one of the moms sarcastically.

I paid the other mom, snatched up my bag and walked away to a chorus of little thank yous. And that's when I faced my biggest dilemma of the entire process--how was I going to explain to my wife that I was bringing home the Girl Scout cookies I promised I wouldn't buy ... and eight boxes of cookies at that?!?

Just three days before, we'd made a pact to eat healthy and to help one another through the process. I pondered the situation (and broke open the box of Peanut Butter Patties just to help me think a little more clearly).

"I have a confession to make," I said as I walked in the front door. "But it's not my fault ... she was adorable and had these big, brown eyes."

"Don't tell me, you brought home a puppy!" she exclaimed.

"No," I said, hoping that now cookies wouldn't sound so bad. "It's just a few Girl Scout cookies. But I bought them for the office."

"Sure," she said with the same tone of disbelief as the mom at the Safeway. "Then why do I smell peanut butter on your breath?" (I knew I should have had the Ice Berry Piñatas instead ... not so easy to detect.)

So with that, I packed up the Shortbreads and all the rest of the cookies (except, of course, for my favorites--the Caramel deLites--which I smuggled into my sock drawer) and loaded them in the car. And whether that mom at the store or Natalie wants to believe me or not, I did take all the cookies (well, most of them anyway) to the office. And I've got co-workers who are just a little pudgier this week to prove it. They hit those cookie boxes like a beagle to a T-bone and didn't feel guilty about it one bit.

"I'm having two--a lemon crème and an oatmeal peanut butter," announced Jeannie, our office manager. "And it's OK, because the lemon is fruit, and the oatmeal is fiber. I can always justify eating cookies."

I wish I could.

Want to talk? Give me a call at 408.354.3110, or write to dsparrer@svcn.com.