Victory chips

Boy likes to do his own thing. He really doesn't listen to anything I say and demands instant gratification. When he wants to play baseball, we play baseball right then and there. When he wants to eat, he eats. Somehow it's completely ok that he helps himself to whatever he wants. Who am I to judge? Let's be honest, he has learned that from me. So on day, I come home from work and I go into the kitchen to help get dinner started. Boy is hungry. Great, he's gonna whine until dinner is ready. I hurry. Next I hear the door to the bathroom shut. Then it locks. I don't think much of it. A few minutes later as I walk by the bathroom I hear some rustling. I know that rustling. He has gotten himself a bag of Cape Cod potato chips, gone into the bathroom, shut the door, locked it and now he's laying on the floor going to town. This is the big Costco bag, by the way. I know this from the rustling sound. I'm no stranger to Cape Cod potato chips. They rock. I've been to the factory where they make them. Even ate more than the allotted sample size. Didn't feel the least bit bad about it. I've been a valued customer for years. They owe me. So it's clear to me what's going on. Also at this point he realizes what I know. He also knows he's smart enough to lock the door. And that he's wrong. Giggling. Rustling. Crunching. Giggling. Rustling. Crunching. Oh, game on, Boy. Open this door I say. Giggling. Rustling. Crunching. The thing about a 3-year old is they don't have any feelings of what's gonna happen next, only what is currently happening. I destroy a coat hanger to get it through that little hole in the bathroom door to unlock it. The door flies open. He panicks. He grabs the chips and runs behind the toilet. He, of course is only in his underwear, holding a bag of chips half his size. He manages to eat more chips as I grab the bag. The worst part about it? Even though he knows he's clearly in the wrong, he still gets mad at me and has a tantrum. Somehow, I'm the bad guy. I'm not going to apologize. Even though these are my chips and I can do what I want, I still conceal the handful of chips that I eat when I reclaim the bag. I have a fear that Boy may see me. I can't close up the bag without a few for the effort. But somehow it's tainted. I enjoy my victory chips like someone who said they quit smoking but didn't. In shame.