My daughter is a straw shark. I’ve been watching. Any time we eat out (which, if you think about it, is A LOT), she ends up absconding with at least one straw.
I don’t notice this until later, when I might catch her stripping off the paper wrapper somewhere. More likely is when I find a trail of little paper bits around the living room. The secreted straw is now naked and in need of a purpose.
This usually happens when Paul or I have a beverage. Hunter will sneak up with her straw, plant it in our drink and sip. When she does this I’m usually okay — she hasn’t done it yet with anything Paul has that’s alcoholic, just tea and water for the most part. What does bother me is if she notices that we haven’t noticed. Then she’ll blow bubbles in whatever she’s drinking, like a challenge.
And then she runs off, the proof of her crime sitting in our drink, a long giggle following her as she runs off.
Today she did it, but I’d already emptied my cup. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she stripped down the straw, her joy at finding out it had a bendy top… and then her utter frustration when she could find nothing to slurp out of the cup. She ran off again, the bendy straw laying in the bottom of the cup, its mission unanswered.