These aren’t the usual sausages we cook, the ones that come wrapped tightly in industrial plastic from a supermarket the size of Saskatchewan. These are from-a-butcher sausages, which means they have flavour.
William inhales his ketchup with a side of sausages. The sugary, red sauce coats the meat, and he doesn’t notice whether or not the sausages taste like goat, caviar, or polymers. Let’s face it, the Ketchup Strategy is how I got through dinners of roast beef as a child, when I wasn’t trying to wad up pieces of dead cow in my napkin before one of my siblings ratted me out.
Vivian, however, doesn’t like ketchup, and her tongue is on fire from the sausages that contain an exotic spice called “pepper.” She drinks three glasses of milk.
I explain something about her taste buds being more sensitive because she hasn’t burnt them off yet.
This remark is the catalyst that directs dinner conversation to the direction it always seems to go: to facts from Weird But True books.
“Mom,” she says, “do you know women have more taste buds than men?”
I shake my head, my husband raises his eyebrows, William helps himself to more ketchup.
“I didn’t know that,” I say. For once, I refrain from adding a sassy remark about my taste buds being more discerning than my husband’s. I have the foresight to know he’ll add something about my taste buds being less efficient than his. Maybe I am learning something; at least I’m realizing I can conduct full conversations in my head where I play both my part and my husband’s.
Vivian takes another bite of sausage and chews. Hey eyes grow. “It’s burning my tongue. I can’t stop it! Help me!”
Her tongue is dangling outside her mouth like our pet dog’s, if we had a pet dog.
But we don’t.
So I said:
Oops. That wasn’t my inside-my-head voice.
Time to add to the therapy fund.
Tune in Friday to find out about some guest post opportunities
here at Ironic Mom.
What bizarre things have you said or done recently?