I have become starkly aware of the fact that snark and sarcasm are now competitive sports within my home… and I must win.
I served peas as the légume du jour for dinner last Thursday. This is always a highly controversial maneuver within my abode as none of us really care for peas, but I was tired of 1,001 ways to cook broccoli or carrots or cauliflower or green beans. I find canned peas most foul and traditional frozen peas, if left longer than one millisecond in blanching water, will ultimately transform into baby food. And… I’m far, far too lazy to “shuck” my own fresh peas. I was willing, however, to try the frozen peas that you steam in the bag.
You know what? I actually found myself sort of liking those peas. Thank you, convenience cooking contraption creators. Big K had much the same reaction although we both ate all of our peas first before proceeding on to the food we really wanted to eat. Little K tried a different strategy. He ate everything else and then sat and stared at his plate of peas. Finally, the words came… and I was prepared. “Mom, I’m full.” He said. “You lie.” I said. This, my friends, is the child that is n-e-v-e-r full. I will be flat broke before he graduates from high school in eight years. “I’ll make you a deal,” I continued. “Eat half of that pile of peas.” He agreed. The deal was met and the child shoveled a large amount of peas into his face without so much as a mild complaint. This means that he too rather enjoyed those peas although I will never get that admission from him.
Shortly after my child disappeared into the kitchen with his plate, I thought to ask what happened to the remaining half a pile of peas. The response? The trash. Sigh. Oh, there weren’t enough peas to salvage for any other purpose. Not really. But, I don’t like throwing food in my trash can. Eventually it will stink. My apartment, however, faces the woods on two sides and there are animals that live in those woods. There is a rule in my house that if it is rapidly biodegradable or animal edible then it can be thrown into the forest. I reminded my child of this fact and told him he was lucky the next morning was Friday. Trash day. Whew!
But, hark! This tale is not done for I then spotted: One. Single. Bright. Green. Pea. It was on my rug. Whole. Not yet smushed. I cleared my throat and pointed at the pea. Little K smiled. He walked over to the pea. He picked it up. Then he proceeded to walk toward the front door with that one pea held high… looking over his shoulder with the smarmiest expression of all time. He intended to throw that pea out the door into the woods and was making sure I acknowledged the absurdity of this action since half a pile of uneaten peas was already living in my trash can. He strutted. He smirked. “I cannot let the 9-year old win,” I thought. “I must trump his snark!”
“You know,” I said as he opened the door. “It’s a darn good thing there aren’t two of those. We certainly can’t be having you throw pea-pea all over the neighborhood.”
Big K immediately fell off the couch. Raucous laughter.
Little K threw his one pea into the woods, closed the door, turned to me with his hands on his hips and with a roll of his eyes and in a most exasperated tone of voice stated, “MOM! THAT IS *SO* IMMATURE!”
I Trump Your Snark & Raise You A Guffaw
“One of the keys is to not be childish, but act childlike. The idea is not to shirk adult responsibilities. It's about finding ways how you can interject fun into your everyday life.” ~Jason Kotecki