The children were playing, unaware that I was making their lunches. Samantha was the first to figure out that something was up. She appeared at my elbow. “Is that for me?”
I was not in the mood to cook, so I was making peanut butter sandwiches, with a new sandwich cutter beside me. Hearts. Twin hearts. Isn’t that sweet?
Samantha isn’t always keen on peanut butter sandwiches. She would not have been pleased to be told that it was all there was for lunch. So, I told her, “No. These are mine. Why do ask? Are you hungry?”
I could feel the frustration. “Yes, I’m hungry. Are you going to make that sandwich into hearts?” I was cackling inside. “Why yes, I am. You’ll have to get something else. These are for me.”
“BUT, MOM! I want one! I LOVE hearts! Did you make it with honey? Please may I have it? Please? PLEASE!?”
“Well. Okay. You can have my peanut butter and honey sandwich.”
She left cackling over her prize.
I took Simon his sandwiches.Two beautiful peanut butter and jelly hearts, arranged just so on the plate. He loves peanut butter. It’s his very favorite food, after oatmeal. Unfortunately, I had underestimated how long it was taking him to finish his oatmeal, and how unimpressed he might be with hearts. The oatmeal was still there in front of him, just a spoonful left.
I showed him the sweet pb hearts. “Simon, would you like these?” I got a very firm no in response. “Okay. I’ll just put them right here, in case you change your mind.”
Simon glared up at me, wrapped his arms around his oatmeal bowl and shot back, “NO! Get it away from me. And get it away from MY OATMEAL!”
When the boy says no, he means it. There’s no wishy washy gray in his life.
Surreal Hysterics 