The Princess And Her Peas

So, this evening, we stopped by Grandma & Grandpa Bellock's house for dinner. This is not unusual, but the fact that they were serving peas was. My mother (Grandma B), as long as I have known her, has always HATED peas, in fact, she frequently describes them as "pithy." My father (Grandpa B), on the other hand, likes peas. Which probably explains why they were on the table, as he does the cooking & menu selections these days. You may be asking yourself, "self, what does this have to do with Emily?" Well I have an answer for that question, so there is no need to internalize it.

Emily has been eating peas at day care recently, so we took this opportunity to give her a couple of spoonfuls during the course of the meal and let her play with/eat them. This was keeping her occupied while the rest of us enjoyed the delicious meal that my father had prepared. Emily was having a great time, picking up peas in both hands, squishing them & smashing them on her tray; she even ate a few. All in all Emily was enjoying her peas.

Once dinner was over, there was still a little bowl full of peas. My mother, who if you'll remember from the previous paragraph HATES peas, often describing them as "pithy," thought it would be interesting to see what Emily would do with the peas in the bowl. Since Christa & I are always up to something funny (and since Christa is also not a fan of peas), we immediately gave Emily the bowl. She was really enjoying playing with HAND FULLS of peas. She was eating some of them and squishing even more of them. This went on for a little while, I am sure she got more peas on and around her than in her, but she was having LOTS of fun. We were also having fun watching what she did with the peas and LOTS of photos were being taken. Sadly, as all things must, the fun did come to an end, albeit a fantastic dramatic one. Emily seized the bowl and with great flourish, FLUNG it off of the table! This dramatic ending was met with a chorus of laughter from everyone, except Grandpa B, whose job it will be to clean up the peas. (Remember, Grandma B HATES peas.) It was the end of the fun, the end of the peas, and thankfully happened at someone else's house.

"Okay, peas, prepare to be squished . . ."

"1, 2, 47, 89, 3, 10, 11, 126, 34 . . .Wow, this counting stuff is pretty easy."

"Grandma, what do you mean I missed a few numbers?"

"But Daddy taught me how to count!"

"So many peas, so little time."

"I just need a quick snack before I torture some more peas."

"I'll just nibble a few more . . ."

"Oops! How did that happen?"

"Grandma, why are you laughing so hard? I just spilled peas all over the floor."

"Daddy, I spilled peas on the floor and Grandma is cracking up. What's with that?"

"Daddy, Daddy, DADDY!!"

"Daddy, you've got to check out the mess I made. Sorry, Grandpa."