I remember how much fun it was to experiment in the kitchen as a child and cook up an odd mixture of this and that… typically inedible, but fun in its creation. So yesterday when Rainbow decided to experiment with some kitchen ingredients (encouraged on by Dolittle), I was completely fine with the idea, as long as the ingredients were leftovers and not perfectly good and untouched food that would be wasted.
So in went some banana pudding, and in went the end of a couple of juice boxes, and in went a slice or two of leftover fruit, etc… all stirred in a jumbo Harry Potter cup. From there portions were served up in medicine cups so that, as the pudding settled on the bottom they began to resemble layered shooters.
“Can I take Rainbow door to door to sell Tootie-Fruity Juice?” Dolittle inquired. Was she kidding me? Of course not!
“P-L-E-A-S-E Mom….” injects Rainbow, “I’ll NEVER ask for anything else ever again.”
“But it will make anyone who is sick feel better,” she claims (and probably believes).
I picture my child on the back of a wagon selling snake oil. I bet she’d have made a fortune.
I cannot try some. Nobody, including the children themselves in fact, try some. Even at the best of times nobody in my house would ever make it on a Survivor food challenge… we’d be kicked off the island for sure. Still Rainbow whines to go selling door to door. I picture a travelling Kool-Aid stand.
I suppose I should not have been surprised to find Dolittle hanging up the phone announcing “Ch-Kay is coming over on the way to the hockey game. I had her number in my book.” Ch-Kay is my best friend, the girl’s godmother, and a very cool lady. “I want to show her my hamster,” Rainbow adds.
Ah, the hamster. Good enough.
Of course, Ch-Kay is not in the door two minutes when she is offered a shooter of health-giving elixir…. well, accosted with the beverage before her coat is even off is probably a more accurate description of events. And, to my amazement, she takes this medicine cup and actually takes a drink. For real.
Dang she’s brave.
And to my even greater amazement, she announces it is actually very tasty! “Here Mom, have some,” Ch-Kay states, passing me my own serving. She smirks. Yeah… no pressure, right? The children look to me.
I taste. And indeed, it is not at all offensive (as long as you don’t look at it).
Of course, it remains to be seen if I’ve been cured of anything. (And I could do with a good anti-anxiety med). In fact, I’ve been asked three times today if I feel ok…. Hmmm, maybe it’s time I gave Ch-Kay a call.