Picture it. 2010. Somewhere in America. Like maybe Austin. Dinner. A family of four, ranging in age from 18 months to, well, a lot older than 18 months. On the menu: couscous.
H, who is four: What IS this?
Me: It’s couscous.
H: Have I eaten it before?
Me: Yes, many times.
H: Do I like it?
Me: You do.
{Skeptical looks from the four year old. Meanwhile, in a nearby highchair, there is an 18 month old, P, shoving handfuls of couscous down his throat. And shirt. And probably his pants*.}
H: Hmm. P likes it. We should make THIS for Santa Claus. So, what’s this IN it? Some kind of carrot or something?
Me: No, that’s a pine nut.
H: Oh, what we make flour out of. I see.
Me: What? Flour?
H, looking like his mother is brain dead, says slowly: FLOUR.
Me: Flour…
H, slower and louder: FLLOOUR.
Me, thoughtfully, and mighty patiently for a woman who didn’t sleep much the night before (see: couscous shoveling 18 month old who appears to be getting two-year molars): Saying it slower and louder is not going to help me suddenly understand you. We’ve never made flour out of pine nuts. I’m not sure what you’re thinking of. I’m trying to remember if you and I have ever made flour at all.
H, gesturing toward the yard with great annoyance: No, FLOWER.
Me: Ahhhh. Flowers!
Mark, sensing that I might not continue our little repartee in a non-sarcastic manner, jumps in: No, buddy. These aren’t seeds, they’re nuts.
{H, finally appeased, goes back to eating without complaint for about 28 seconds. Somehow, for reasons I’ll never understand (maybe because I don’t care all that much), the pine nut discussion of aught-ten has reminded Mark of something he saw on Brewmasters.}
Mark: It was fascinating, watching them infuse the beer. And I started thinking of all these things I could infuse beer with.** They used actual pumpkin, so that got me thinking about all these fruits, and maybe some nuts…
{This goes on a while, kind of like eating dinner with Forrest Gump, and I listen patiently because I’m really happy that the kids aren’t screaming or flinging food across the room (don’t you wish you could eat dinner with us?), until Mark is interrupted.}
H: You know what I want? A pear.
Me: Well I don’t have any pears right now, but I will get some next time I’m at the store.
H: No, not a pear. A pear.
Me: The fruit? Is that what you’re talking about?
H, with that look again, but this time with a hint of smirk: No. Like two of something. I want a PAIR.
Me: A pair of what?
H, really smirking now, so I am pretty sure he’s messing with me: Of pears.
Me: You want a pair of pears?
H, grinning, shrugs: Okay.
{Like I came up with the whole pair of pears thing.
About this time, P, the 18-month-old, with fists full of peas and chicken, starts saying Oink, Oink over and over again, and Mark begins discussing beer again, and I am both amused and exasperated.
Our meal became some bizarre Who’s on First – Forrest Gump mash up. And I suspect that I played the role of unsuspecting straight man.}
* There was, in fact, couscous in his pants.
** No, Mark does not actually brew his own beer. He wants to, but I like to use my bathtub for bathing, not brewing. We’re at odds on this one. He says he can set up everything in the garage, but I like to park the cars in there and a fleet of refrigerators would kind of get in the way of the car-parking. Like I said, we’re at odds.
I wonder…
:: Did you hang in there and read all of that?
Lapsed homemaker. Looking to hire a full-time housekeeper who will work for the sheer joy of a job well done and free coffee. Interested parties, DM please. 
That’s hysterical. I can just imagine your confusion!!
Yes, I read every word.
Why?
Because lunacy loves company, my dear.
Welcome to the Funny Farm.
Love you big time.
Yep, I read the whole thing. And laughed and laughed. Maybe a bit too maniacally.
Because I got news for you sistah, it doesn’t get any better as they get older. It just gets weirder and more involved. Your dinner made no mention of potty talk, sibling fights, or really bad basic manners (napkin? what?). You have miles to go.
My husband and I will finish dinner and feel like survivors. One time he looked at me and said, I guess we’ll have to keep doing this until we get it right.
Check in with Lori over at Martha Points and see if she might not illustrate this for you…..
I did. I was amused because these conversations go on around me and I can never quite capture the pain.
Couscous? Iām sorry. But I might have had the same conversation with you. At least the beginning ā Iām not a connoisseur but I get the whole seed/nut thing.
And, this is why a child
can only learn language well
if he has a mom around.
aand, at first this was cute, then heart warming, then FUNNY. A whole family sitcom ā complete with a denouement.
happily read the whole thing.
This cracked me up!! My husband loves that show too AND now he wants to brew his on beer too. š I think all of us wives should unite and tell Discovery to take the show off the air. Otherwise we will be drowning in beer! š
Your kids sound adorable! Dinner and entertainment!!
Hilarious. Big time. Have you ever seen “A Christmas Story” where the mom gets the kid to eat by asking him, “Who’s Mama’s little piggy?” And the kid starts oinking and eating from the plate with his mouth? I don’t know why, but that whole scene reminded me of that. Frageelayy! (It’s too detailed to explain if you haven’t seen the movie but do yourself a favor, if you haven’t watch it on the double.) Timeless brilliance.
My husband made his own wine about 20 years ago. He stored the wine in these huge glass jars and left them in our garage. They sat there for years, with cobwebs and God knows what kind of insects, finding their way into the wine. We never drank the wine, but still it moved with us from house to house. I always threatened to get rid of it, but he wouldn’t let me. A few years back, my cousin had a boyfriend and she brought him over to the house during a party. Now, my family is big and loud and we tend to be overwhelming to outsiders. But Chad didn’t seem overwhelmed at all. And towards the end of the evening, the “garage wine” as it came to be referred to, was brought up. And without hesitation, Chad said, “I’ll drink some.” Of course my husband ran out to the garage and poured a huge glassful. And that Chad drank that evil brew down. My family has never been more impressed. Of course, he had to be driven home and he didn’t come get his car for two days. My cousin married Chad. We all approved. Sorry for the hijack. But I love telling that story.
I think it’s awesome you have a “Forest Gump” tag on your blog. š
Yes, I think he would like couscous, maybe with a nice home-brewed pint of pumpkin beer and a “pair”.
I so want to have dinner at your house now.
I’m constantly stunned by what I find in Alex’s pants…
Oh my gosh Missy! Your family is a riot. I can just imagine that conversation with H and P stuff and shovel maneuver.
Shutterfly saves my Christmas card self every. single. year.
For that matter, I ordered my wedding invitations from Shutterfly. No joke. Really, they save my life.
Pictures worth a thousand words and all that.
I love your choice.
Um, I’m not really sure how the comment above ended up on this post. I thought I was commenting on the shutterfly post…obviously….
Yes I read every word, and I know just how you feel!
Also, I bet Santa would love a solid snack like couscous after all that sugary crap other families give him…