Monthly Archives: April 2009

The proof is in the bananas

I wasn’t kidding when I said I hate bananas. And that I always have. My Mom says it was that way from the beginning.

I can remember leaving a banana that she had sent to school with me in my bag until it became a mushy brown disgustingly sweet mess at the bottom. When she found it after a week, I think she finally realized that I was never going to voluntarily eat one.

Of course, that didn’t stop me from feeding them to my kids. And they’ve all liked them. I think it’s my husband’s favorite fruit. And my youngest son claims he likes monkeys because “you know why? Tus monkeys like bananas and so do I.” (And here I was thinking it was because he acted like a monkey.)

The point is, I buy bananas by the dozen on a weekly basis and have not even told my kids I don’t like bananas so as to not influence them negatively.

I’ve been working harder this week at trying more solid food with Miss F. And she’s been less than enthusiastic. Though she did start eating those weird little puffed sweet potatoed thingies, so there’s that. After a few days of those I decided to smash up a banana again and see if she would eat it.

I scooped some up with a spoon and gave her a little taste.

She made a face.

Then she made a sound not unlike a gag.

And then she spit it out.

Fine. Whatever. It was only her fourth try. She might come around, right?

Later, as I was cleaning up, I decided to give it one more try before throwing it out.

I held the spoon up to her lips, which she pursed tightly shut.

And then…

she shuddered.

And I felt just a little bit proud.

Because she doesn’t really look like me.

Her hair is straight and light colored.

Her eyes are dark brown like her father’s.

Everyone thinks she looks like her brothers.

But hating bananas?

That’s all me.


edited to note: Thank you for no one mentioning that HUGE mispelling (that I’ve since corrected). I was sitting down to lunch when I realized I’d mispelled it. I shudder to think what would have happened had I left it.



Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Girls are not boys, I confess


my brothers did this too me

Tell me again why it’s so great to have three older brothers?

and then they laughed at me

It’s hard to remember sometimes.


Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Boys will be boys

This could’ve been 7 different posts

But then you probably wouldn’t be reading this.

1) Mr. French is a year older (in March, sorry).

You know you’re an adult if you prefer the taste of your cake over and above the theme.

Double chocolate torte

Or if Eggs Benedict and roasted asparagus were on the birthday menu.

Eggs with a side of butter, cream, and bacon.

You also know you’re getting old if your kids think your party was boring.

“That’s it? No games?” “All you got was books?!”

2) The boys laugh at Felicity when she cries.

Specifically, when she cries about something “little” and “stupid”.

Because “she cries like a girl.”

And I let them.

Because, really? She does.

And her brothers pretty much think she’s the best thing since legos were invented.

So, I think she’ll live.

3) The boys got Felicity a baby doll when she was born. Which was very sweet of them. But it’s a little annoying how they refer to it.

In a baby voice, to their baby sister, they say things like, “Do you want me to get your daughter for you?”

Eh. I guess I’ll live.

4) Felicity is crawling, climbing, and trying to stand, Oh my!

She is not, however, eating.

Paper and dog food, Yes.

Cereal, bananas, rice, or peas? No.

Perhaps when her teeth come in.

5) She has never met a stranger she thought was worth smiling for.

Sorry to all the cashiers, police officers (who spoke in a Donald Duck voice!), neighbors, friends at church, and other people at the store.

You are not worthy.

In other news, she will go to her father now, which he is milking for all it’s worth.

Of course, her brothers can still make her laugh like no one else.

6) Molly is now an “inside” dog (during the week anyway).

I’m not really sure how it happened.

One day she was outside.

Then it started raining and the next thing I knew, Molly is inside whenever she wants.

She’s a good dog though.

OK, fiiiine. She’s starting to grow on me, alright? I said it.

7) Speaking of good dogs. We were trying to teach Felicity to pet the doggy nicely.

She may or may not have taken that opportunity to pull out a handful of copper fur.

And now, if Felicity gets within a foot, Molly calmly moves about three feet away.

Can’t say I blame her.


Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Girls are not boys, Mr. French, That was fun, The Dog