So.
The punch line of the whole "frozen peas" story?
The kid now asks (every so often, maybe once a week or so) to sleep with his bag of frozen peas. Some toddlers have a wubbie. Our toddler has a plastic zip-locked bag of Fred Meyer's finest icy legumes pressed to his crotch.
In the morning Deb throws them back in the freezer. For next time.
Y'know - one of these days I'm gonna forget, cook and eat the damn things by mistake. But, they were never out of the bag, it doesn't hurt or anything, right?
Naaaah.
But now the corn niblets, though...
Sleeping with frozen peas on his crotch....hmmm....Well ain't that just the funniest darn thing (read---really fekkin' weird!). But, you know what, it just doesn't surprise me at all. And just think about the alternative...if you were to take away his frozen peas and say, "No Peepers, frozen peas on your nards..bad!". He'd develop this strange obsession with frozen peas that, when he starts dating, might be, well, difficult to reckon with.
ReplyDeleteAnd, hey, I really appreciate your comments on my blog. It makes my day to come home and see comments (is that sad?). And I would be honored to be on your blogroll. Can I put you on mine?
Some of the best writing in the blogosphere??!!WhatchewtalkinboutWillis? Those poor wandering souls will be ever so disappointed...but maybe the link to Thor, Legend of Rock will get 'em hooked....
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