Ah, it’s great to be alive!
Spring is in the air, the tulips and other spring flowers are up and the weather is warm. New life. Renewal. Family time.
Don’t know about your situation, but I do know our little clan has gotten a little closer this spring. Why just the other day we had a family bonding moment at the dinner table — and all over a can of peas.
There we were, sitting at the retro, red and chrome kitchen table. Our plates were full (of which we were thankful). Glasses full of cold cow’s milk, plates holding some sort of hamburger helper concoction and canned green peas, glistening with melted hydrogenated yellow vegetable oil. A veritable feast, if I do say so myself.
‘Look boys, we get peas tonight,? I beamed, announcing the obvious.
‘Yeah!? exclaimed three year old Sean, giving the thumbs up sign.
‘I just love peas,? piped in five year old Shamus, smiling sincerely.
‘Mmmm,? said Jen, through closed lips — though surprisingly, there were no peas on her plate.
Mixing my peas into the Hamburger Helper stuff and shaking on lots of Tobasco sauce, I added, ‘Eat up them peas, boys. They’re good for you.?
And, dutifully at their father’s request the Rush lads dug into the pile of peas on their respective plates. This, as I heaped my fork full of the noodles, hamburger, brownish gravy and peas.
The eating frenzy had officially started, peas and all.
Let me say this: I do not like canned peas. They look dead and gray and green, they taste like dirt and the texture — I don’t even want to go there. What did Lucy say when the original Snoop Doggy kissed her? Blech!
That taste explained, I thought it was my Dad duty to eat what was on my plate — to show the boys a good example. And, to hold back the gag reflex, I perpetrated the fancy fork work and mixed the peas into the rest of the meal.
The boys finished their first bite of peas, drank their milk and started in on the Hamburger Helper. Jen feigned an upset stomach and drank some orange juice. A few minutes passed. There were plenty of fork pings of the plates as the boys heartily went at their noodles and meat.
‘How are those peas, boys?? I asked, sopping up the rest of the gravy with a buttered piece of enriched wheat bread.
Sean scrunched up his little face and shook his head.
Shamus said, ‘I don’t like peas.?
Jen looked at me and said, ‘I thought you liked peas.?
I shook my head and imitated Sean’s facial expression.
‘Well, I thought you liked peas. I don’t like peas. Boys, do you like peas?? Jen, the dutiful mom, asked.
They shook their heads, no.
‘It’s settled then,? Jen concluded.
Right then and there, as a family, we vowed not to eat canned peas again. The little dirt-gray-green things were stricken from our menu, never to be before us again. We became a little bit closer then, a little stronger and somehow, I almost feel guilty about ragging the canned pea industry, after what it did for us.
Almost.
* * *
Speaking of little green things, this is the first alert on turtle watching. One darted (can turtles ‘dart??) in front of my car the other day. Yep, it’s that time of year when mom turtles are on the move to bury their eggs. In their mania to loosen their loads, they have no respect for human traffic. So, be on the lookout for the little mothers. If you see one and can, get out of your car and help her to the other side.
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