I am not a fan of peas. They taste nasty, they squish like eyeballs in my mouth, and they are not one bit appealing to my eye.
When I was 9 I was at my dad's house for the weekend and my stepmom made peas for dinner. Everyone knows I hate peas. My dad got it into his head that he would force me to eat peas at dinner or I couldn't have dessert, and I couldn't leave the table unless I ate one spoonful of peas.
Let me just say that I don't take kindly to being told to eat things I don't wanna. I sat at that table until everyone else was done, and continued to sit there after everyone went to the living room to watch TV. I sat and sat and sat and sat and sat, not eating peas. Picture, if you will, the bloody steak scene from Mommie Dearest. I never did eat those peas, not even one spoonful. My dad finally took pity on me and let me leave the table.
To this day my dad enjoys recounting this story at the dinner table, especially when my stepmom serves peas.
And that's a roundabout way of saying I had chicken pot pie on a bed of jasmati for dinner, hold the peas.
1 comment:
When my husband was about twelve, his mother made SOS. He didn't like it and would not eat it. She insisted that he would eat it. He sat there until it got cold and gelitin like. He wouldn't eat it. She wouldn't let him leave the table. Hours later she upped the anty; he would eat it or he would wear it. He didn't eat it. She dumped it on his head. They have a good relationship to this day.
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