Jello. That wonderfully wobbly stuff. My dad always loved it. Sometimes my Dad would want it plain and tease mom when she put fruit in it, “Why’d you adulterate my jello?” It became the family joke – “Do you want unadulterated or adulterated jello?” When I got married Paul quickly learned about our odd little jello jokes, becoming adept at adding to them. In fact, he broadened it to include any food I added extra stuff too (which is quite a lot).
Sunday afternoon I decided grilled cheese and tomato soup were on the menu. I had the sandwiches on the griddle, the hot cheese sizzling as it hit the surface, and Emily had the soup heating on the stove. I’m not a huge fan of condensed tomato soup, it’s a little plain for me (though Paul loves the stuff). Whenever he wasn’t looking I’d shake in a little basil, a little pepper, a little this, a little that.
Finally, Paul caught me. “Are you adulterating my soup?”
“Yup.” I dipped in a spoon a tasted the now delicious concotion.
Emily’s envious eyes followed the spoon to my mouth. “Can I taste?” she wanted know.
“Sure.” I plunged in the spoon and handed it to her. “Mmmmmm.”
“Adulteration is good, isn’t it, Em?” (I had no clue about what I was saying here – obviously)
“Uh-huh!” She vigorously nodded her head.
Paul stared at me incredulously. “What exactly are you teaching our daughter?!”
“Oh! Oh no! Oh boy! oh… oops.” And I had no choice but to dissolve into helpless laughter… and blame it on my dad of course. 😀 hee hee Now, how do you go about explaining that one to an 8-year-old.