So we're sitting at the dinner table tonight enjoying a rather delectable dish of New Orleans style "dirty rice", smoked sausage, sauteed greens, and a "white" salad. I call it a white salad because of the color makeup of the cucumbers, lettuce, white cheese, croutons, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah, whatever!
We were coming towards the end of dinner and while enjoying our salad. We eat salad last because somewhere my husband said that's what the Europeans, or the French do and so we hopped on board the idea thinking it was nouveau riche or something. We sure as hell don't want to be the average family.
So he begins to educate the kids on why the lettuce is called "living lettuce". They harvest the lettuce by pulling it up from it's roots and leaving them attached. Therefore, the lettuce is still thriving and "living" until one washes and removes the roots prior to eating. The kids seemed semi interested as kids do at this age about learning anything remarkably new from their parents.
It's the, "Parents are stupid, everyone else is not", mentality at this age. At least the three year old was excited about the fact that her food was still alive and she wanted to know if it would still talk to her. She became busy having a conversation with her pieces of lettuce as she made it dance across her plate.
Suddenly, Julian started choking. I looked over and his hands were wrapped around his neck, his back and head were arched as if he was succumbing to some seizure, and his mouth was gaped wide open. Feeling a rushing sense of panic, I noticed that a piece of lettuce was "wrapped" around his tongue. Just before I stood to run to him, he suddenly regain composure and began chewing.
We were coming towards the end of dinner and while enjoying our salad. We eat salad last because somewhere my husband said that's what the Europeans, or the French do and so we hopped on board the idea thinking it was nouveau riche or something. We sure as hell don't want to be the average family.
So he begins to educate the kids on why the lettuce is called "living lettuce". They harvest the lettuce by pulling it up from it's roots and leaving them attached. Therefore, the lettuce is still thriving and "living" until one washes and removes the roots prior to eating. The kids seemed semi interested as kids do at this age about learning anything remarkably new from their parents.
It's the, "Parents are stupid, everyone else is not", mentality at this age. At least the three year old was excited about the fact that her food was still alive and she wanted to know if it would still talk to her. She became busy having a conversation with her pieces of lettuce as she made it dance across her plate.
Suddenly, Julian started choking. I looked over and his hands were wrapped around his neck, his back and head were arched as if he was succumbing to some seizure, and his mouth was gaped wide open. Feeling a rushing sense of panic, I noticed that a piece of lettuce was "wrapped" around his tongue. Just before I stood to run to him, he suddenly regain composure and began chewing.
The damn kid was faking!
Then suddenly he stood straight up from his chair, a type of rigamortis set in, his shoulders were crunched up around his neck, and he began to walk a little like Frankenstein over to his father's chair.
In a squeaky high-pitched voice, he pleas with his father: "Don't eat us, we are living!"
My husband looks over at him like he is nuts; which he is. He continues to take a stab with his fork into a rather large chunk of lettuce and before he gets it to his mouth Julian smacks him on the side of the shoulder and pleas again: "Do not eat us - we are alive. STOP eating us!" This sends the fork bouncing onto my husbands plate.
At this point, Julian's eyeballs start rolling back into his head.
"We have not died yet. We are alive and you need to leave us alone. We want to be free!", he says in his 'I have been possessed by vegetables" still squeaky voice.
In a squeaky high-pitched voice, he pleas with his father: "Don't eat us, we are living!"
My husband looks over at him like he is nuts; which he is. He continues to take a stab with his fork into a rather large chunk of lettuce and before he gets it to his mouth Julian smacks him on the side of the shoulder and pleas again: "Do not eat us - we are alive. STOP eating us!" This sends the fork bouncing onto my husbands plate.
At this point, Julian's eyeballs start rolling back into his head.
"We have not died yet. We are alive and you need to leave us alone. We want to be free!", he says in his 'I have been possessed by vegetables" still squeaky voice.
Yes, I am a parent of a son who has been possessed by a vegetable!
Julian soon realizes that his constant smacking of his dad's shoulder is losing it's humor-value and resorts to stealing the last few bits of salad from the table. Suddenly he whips the salad bowl off the table and starts running through the kitchen, into the game room, around through the hallway, and back into the kitchen all the while yelling "We are alive - We... ARE.... ALIIIIIIIIIVE!"
Okay, we're laughing; it's funny, but does it let it die there. Nope. Like I said, we are not average. Our urging for him to stop falls on deaf ears of his as he continues his jaunt through the house. So my husband and I decide to physically get involved. We "try" to chase after him.
All my kids have quick maneuvers when trying to escape, and this situation is no different. Julian is keen on our impending chase so he decides to open the front door and bolt while still yelling "We're alive, we're alive - don't EAT us!"
He has now taken this skit into the front lawn with mom and dad in tow. At this point, I'm less concerned with him than I am the antique glass salad bowl that my mother recently gave to me.
"Uh, mom - I'm sorry but the antique salad bowl you gave me was broken recently.", I imagine myself trying to explain to my mother over the phone.
"Uh why? Well, Julian was acting like a vegetable...... "
"Yes, a vegetable mom, and we were trying to chase him down in the front yard.... "
"Uh what was that? "
"Yes, he was running around the front yard acting like a vegetable."
"No mom, he does not need to see a psychologist, he was just acting."
"Anyway, we were trying to get the bowl away while he was screaming to be a FREE vegetable, and uh well... he tripped and the bowl went into the air while the lettuce went finally... uh.... free."
"NO MOM, for the second time he does not need to see a professional!"
I bring myself back to reality while huffing and puffing my way behind my husband, who is close behind Julian, and they're both heading towards the gate into the back yard. But not before he starts throwing lettuce out of the bowl and screaming: "Be FREE my friends, be FREE! I have saved you from the evil humans - NOW, BE FREE!"
I am so wondering what my neighbors are thinking now. Especially the old guy across the street who sits in his chair, in his garage, from sun up to sundown.
And I thought he was a bit strange.
Julian enters the back yard, still throwing lettuce and laughing hysterically like a lunatic. We are close behind him laughing just as hard, and after giving birth to four children naturally, the latter being 9 lbs. 2 ounces, my bladder is at the breaking point for it has absolute no support left to it after all the bouncing and laughing.
I will be doing "Depends" commercials sometime this year because of this moment.
Lettuce, cheese, cucumbers, and whatever, litter the yard in a splattered trail, from front to back yard, and there Julian lays in the middle of the back yard laughing so hard his face looks as if it would pop like a over-ripe zit! I'm sure the neighbors have written us all off as permanent crazy people as we land beside Julian laughing loudly in hysterics. He is still doing the "Be Free" mantra, just a little softer and more out of breath than before.
The rest of the girls are soon to follow after us with bewildered looks upon their faces trying to piece together what just happened. Nadia instantly joins in and begins to pick lettuce off the ground and throw it up in the air around Julian while telling him to "go home to his people - his vegetables - or to whoever you are".
Our two youngest girls are laughing and dancing in circles around the antique salad bowl as if they are caught in a hypnotic pagan ritual to the unseen vegetable spirits.
For a moment, we have forgotten about our life's responsibilities, our chores, and the last minute science projects that are coming due.
And the bowl survived it all.
Okay, we're laughing; it's funny, but does it let it die there. Nope. Like I said, we are not average. Our urging for him to stop falls on deaf ears of his as he continues his jaunt through the house. So my husband and I decide to physically get involved. We "try" to chase after him.
All my kids have quick maneuvers when trying to escape, and this situation is no different. Julian is keen on our impending chase so he decides to open the front door and bolt while still yelling "We're alive, we're alive - don't EAT us!"
He has now taken this skit into the front lawn with mom and dad in tow. At this point, I'm less concerned with him than I am the antique glass salad bowl that my mother recently gave to me.
"Uh, mom - I'm sorry but the antique salad bowl you gave me was broken recently.", I imagine myself trying to explain to my mother over the phone.
"Uh why? Well, Julian was acting like a vegetable...... "
"Yes, a vegetable mom, and we were trying to chase him down in the front yard.... "
"Uh what was that? "
"Yes, he was running around the front yard acting like a vegetable."
"No mom, he does not need to see a psychologist, he was just acting."
"Anyway, we were trying to get the bowl away while he was screaming to be a FREE vegetable, and uh well... he tripped and the bowl went into the air while the lettuce went finally... uh.... free."
"NO MOM, for the second time he does not need to see a professional!"
I bring myself back to reality while huffing and puffing my way behind my husband, who is close behind Julian, and they're both heading towards the gate into the back yard. But not before he starts throwing lettuce out of the bowl and screaming: "Be FREE my friends, be FREE! I have saved you from the evil humans - NOW, BE FREE!"
I am so wondering what my neighbors are thinking now. Especially the old guy across the street who sits in his chair, in his garage, from sun up to sundown.
And I thought he was a bit strange.
Julian enters the back yard, still throwing lettuce and laughing hysterically like a lunatic. We are close behind him laughing just as hard, and after giving birth to four children naturally, the latter being 9 lbs. 2 ounces, my bladder is at the breaking point for it has absolute no support left to it after all the bouncing and laughing.
I will be doing "Depends" commercials sometime this year because of this moment.
Lettuce, cheese, cucumbers, and whatever, litter the yard in a splattered trail, from front to back yard, and there Julian lays in the middle of the back yard laughing so hard his face looks as if it would pop like a over-ripe zit! I'm sure the neighbors have written us all off as permanent crazy people as we land beside Julian laughing loudly in hysterics. He is still doing the "Be Free" mantra, just a little softer and more out of breath than before.
The rest of the girls are soon to follow after us with bewildered looks upon their faces trying to piece together what just happened. Nadia instantly joins in and begins to pick lettuce off the ground and throw it up in the air around Julian while telling him to "go home to his people - his vegetables - or to whoever you are".
Our two youngest girls are laughing and dancing in circles around the antique salad bowl as if they are caught in a hypnotic pagan ritual to the unseen vegetable spirits.
For a moment, we have forgotten about our life's responsibilities, our chores, and the last minute science projects that are coming due.
And the bowl survived it all.
