For the first time in a long while, my Monday jaunt to the local produce mecca was a solo venture. I usually walk or run there, with at least one child, so I’m limited in time and volume—I can only buy what I can bring home in the stroller and only what I can grab before one or both lose their patience with obscure veggies.
So I brought home a lot more than I normally would have, including selections from the bulk bins. Grains, beans, nuts. And I let Peanut try several before dinner. Raw peanuts, spicy pumpkin seeds, tamari sunflower seeds, cinnamon almonds.
And while I washed and peeled and cored and sliced, P was making a mess.
“Peanut, please, please, please. I know you’re a wiggly guy, but can you please eat and then go play? It’s important to me that you don’t play with your food because of the mess it makes.”
“Mom, it’s just really important to me that I play with my nuts. Because it’s important to me.”
I did a double take before I realized he meant the almonds.
I know that some day soon (next year, according to a mom with three boys) he will mean what I thought he meant. Until then, I still laughed really hard. Because I am a fourth grade boy at heart.