One Dirty Apple...
This past Saturday was our big shopping day. And with Mommy working all day again and Mema taking a badly needed break, it was up to Mama and the kiddos to fill the pantry this time. So, off we went to Costco, Wal-Mart, and Albertsons. And yes, all before noon. But just as we were leaving a pretty successful Costco run (i.e., no melt downs, no accidents, no crying), and Mama was loading the goods into the Durango, the apple bag busted open and out across the parking lot floated a sea of red delicious.
"Uh-oh, Mama," says Saia. [She's really observant that way.] Trying not to curse (audibly), I scramble to salvage as many as I can. That is until my brilliant children decide to lecture me on the finer points of hygiene and food preservation.
"Mama," calls Chago, "if they fell on the floor then they're dirty." "Yes, Chago, that's true." "Mama," interjects Saia, "you throw them all in the trash now?" "Um...well...I thought I would try to wash these few..."
"They're dirty, Mama," they say in unison. "Throw them away!"
What's a mom to do? I lied. And then I quickly buckled them into their seats so they couldn't see what I was doing, shoved the now half-emtpy bag of slightly bruised apples into the back seat, and headed off to Wal-Mart.