Mood: melancholy, pensive
I am surprised that my mood and this entry will probably not match. I'm a girl, mixed up moods are a way of life for me sometimes~ sigh.
This morning at breakfast, I was reminded of why I find Costco an adventure to visit.
Whether I go alone or with the kids, there's always something to see, taste, or play with.
The best thing about taking the kids there is letting them try the samples. Of course, this is if they can even get close to the samples, considering that the opportunity for free food, no matter how small, seems to bring out the nastiest behavior in even the sweetest-looking old ladies. Suddenly, they are maneuvering their carts like they are jockeying for the pole position at the local racetrack. Woe to you to be in their path, because they will take you out! And not even apologize for nearly smashing your two year old in between their cart and the sample lady's 'kitchen.' You are on your own if she's packing knitting needles in her sizeable purse.
Don't even get me started on the mayhem that can ensue when the sample lady runs out and needs to make some more. People circling like sharks...just waiting for the timer to 'ding.' How Pavlovian, I think, as I watch them go round and round.
The kids, who usually will turn up their noses at the mere sight of something unfamiliar, will eagerly nosh on anything put in front of them while we are there. So much so that I've considered donning an apron and hairnet whilst I serve up bite-size pieces of food on little toothpicks or in little cupcake liners. Seriously, why does it seem to enhance the appeal if it's on a toothpick? Oy, the toothpicks make me nervous. (I just can envision that ER visit-"No, dr, really, it was an accident" as I have the toothpick removed from a tender region) What is it they say about never taking food away from an animal as it is eating??
Oh, and Mom is a sucker for the kids pleas of "Can we take some of this home? We LOVE it!" I'm so excited at the prospect of them eating something new, that sometimes I am blinded by the fact that this is Costco. It's gonna come in a huge quantity, and no one will "LOVE" it for long.
The latest, I'm-a-dork purchase? Belgian waffles. I should have realized that the appeal was not the waffle itself, but the whipped cream the sample lady had lovingly swirled on top of it, inviting, fluffy....
My kids love whipped cream. Like most things, it's my fault. I happened to have some on hand. My best friend, Jenny, was over. We regressed to our teenage years, and were shooting hits of it straight into our open mouths in the kitchen, and Ben busted us. Of course, he had to try it, and was totally hooked; so he shared his new find with his brothers...and they liked it too.
So there I am, walking down the aisle while the kids are eating their waffles. Even picky Ryan is entranced, and I'm just pleased to see them branch out, even a little.
Audrey points to the cold case as we walk by, to the bottles of whipped cream, and I tell her, "no, silly, we don't need that..."
When we got home, they of course ask me for some. Fine. Then they ask, what about the whipped cream? I don't have any, and they are all long-faced like I've announced I'm leaving for a long trip alone. "Try it with syrup, like always." "But it's not the same," Ben says.
<eyeroll> "You'll just have to wait until I can get some, then."
A few days later, I remember to pick some up. I think that I've won some small victory, as I squirt some on Ryan's breakfast.
And all he eats is the whipped cream. Great.
In the midst of this all, Audrey is asking for toast. Cool. I make her some. She indicates she wants it "like Nolan"--cinnamon toast. So I sprinkle it on, and she leaves it untouched. Hmm.
Today, I make the waffles for Ben. He eats the whipped cream, and a little waffle too. Audrey is in the kitchen again, insisting she wants toast. Sigh. I make her toast (you know, they say that a kid needs 10+ tries, 10 times of seeing something new, before you should abandon the idea and just realize they don't like it..or is it 25 times? I forget, but you get the picture...) and she won't eat it. "What?" I ask her as I point at it. She goes to the fridge, and brings out the whipped cream bottle. I am defeated. I don't feel like fighting it anymore.
So I lovingly swirl it on top of her toast. Gross? Probably. But it doesn't matter, b/c I know she's only going to eat whipped cream anyway--the vehicle I serve it on is irrelevant.
I'm taking comfort in that it is a dairy product. And it's not the full-on fat-filled stuff.
I think I've learned my lesson. We'll be keeping with the regular menu favorites for a while, and the next time I buy whipped cream, it's hiding in the back of the fridge.
I still need my stash, after all, for 'emergencies.' ;)