November 12th, 2012
has to be peanut butter. Next to Mitt
Romney, that is, and yes, I’ve just given you some idea of my political leanings, and if that means you don’t like me any more then GOOD RIDDANCE TO YOU. I can’t imagine how anyone who is not White, male and rich could possibly conceive of voting for that man. I don’t pretend that Obama is perfect, but at least he is attempting to speak to and work on behalf of ALL of America.
But more on that later. Back to the topic at hand: the absolutely horrid vileness of peanut butter.
It’s just disgusting! The smell makes me want to vomit and it looks like dog poo. How anyone can willingly put this in their mouth, I don’t know.
For as long as we have known each other, I have absolutely refused to prepare any peanut butter sandwiches for the Tech Guru. I can compromise on many things. This is not one.
At first this did not present much of a problem. But as he has returned to his athletic pursuits, particularly long-distance running (which for him is 6-9 miles and for me is anything past 50 yards), he has taken back up with this toxic waste of a peanut. And he has convinced our daughter that she should consume it too.
I don’t deny that it has nutritional value and provides energy. I just…don’t care.
Which is why Punksin’s jaw nearly hit the floor just now when I presented her with a bagel smeared in peanut butter and raisins. Because OH yes, I have refused to make it for HER either.
But…today is her 4th consecutive day of swimming. They scheduled extra days to make up for time lost during the RunMotherFuckerRunRainPocalypse. Yesterday, she looked spent, and she said afterwards that she didn’t feel that she’d done well. Which I think is GREAT, that she can identify that, because that will serve her well. To train your body you must know it. This goes also for the mind.
And so…HUGE SIGH…I put aside the complete revulsion I feel when faced with peanut butter, and gave it to my daughter.
“Wait. What is this?” she said, staring at the plate.
“What does it look like? Peanut butter,” I answered.
“Uh…why did you give me peanut butter?” she asked, still staring at the plate as though it had appeared out of thin air.
“Because you need energy for swimming, that’s why. You see how much I love you? Now stop gawping at it and EAT it,” I said, turning my back on her and the putrid stuff.
“Wow. Wait til I tell Daddy THIS,” she said in wonder.
Yes. Wait indeed. Miracles do happen.
I just hope he doesn’t think I’ll be doing this for HIM. There are, people, limits to what I will do for anyone who was not birthed out of my womb. And peanut butter is WAAAAY past that limit. It’s enough that I purchase it while food-shopping.