We have a long history in our house of food labeling. I’m not talking about anything having to do with nutrition facts: I mean literally labeling food. As in, “J’s cereal”. The two people mostly likely to label their food are Jim and J, because they like many of the same things, meaning whenever I buy said items they don’t last long and one always blames the other for finishing it off. (You can read a great story–with pictures–about it in this
old VINTAGE Suburban Scrawl post!)
It’s been a while since the last kerfuffle over food, and I put it out of the front of my brain for the most part, until the other day. I returned home from running errands to find J in the kitchen, laughing. I asked him what was going on and he said, “You know those four bags of assorted jelly beans from Jelly Belly you brought home yesterday? Dad was looking at them and picked up the bag that had the most red ones and said, ‘THIS ONE IS MINE.’ I told him that it wasn’t and he said it was, but then he went for a bike ride.”
“And?” I asked.
“Well, I hid that bag from him.”
I gave a cursory glance around the kitchen. “Where did you hide it?”
He said, “Up there in the cabinet where you hide your candy.”
“WHAT CANDY??” I asked him, shocked that he could accuse me of such a thing.
“Come on Mom,” he said, “the jig is up.”
See how things change when your kids get tall?