Pickle Eyes

Along with our dinner tonight came the option of pickle spears. I have never been a fan of pickles, or anything steeped in vinegar. Audrey expressed some interest, but the moment we offered her some, she refused, so I ended up with a fifth of a dill pickle sitting on my plate.

It was suggested that, perhaps, Henry would like a little taste. I inwardly rolled my eyes, thinking of gagging and spitting. (On his part, though I would likely sympathize.) It was when Hank decided that he wasn't getting enough attention to go with his graham crackers that I concluded his mouth could use a little puckering.

I cut off a tiny slice, which i then cut into 3 little sections. One minuscule bit was handed off to Papa who obligingly put in into Henry's open mouth....

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Much to everyone's surprise, he didn't spit it out. In fact, he looked interested as he rolled the bit of soggy cucumber around in his mouth. It was when he looked toward me and started squawking again, that I figured I'd try more. After a few more pieces, I decided to go bigger. Maybe, just maybe, he thought it was good because he wasn't getting a big enough piece to really taste it.

In went a bigger chunk of pickle. Henry rolled it around and chewed. Wow.

Of course, all of this supplied plenty of amusement for the adults around the table. Every time he took a piece, we chuckled in appreciation as he inquisitively mouthed it and started to chew with his front teeth, occasionally taking it out, looking at it and putting it back in.

At one point Papa said, "It looks like you've been Pickle-ized."

A few minutes later, while Henry happily munched on more of the offensive vegetable, Audrey piped up, "Henry, you have pickle eyes!"

Audrey did end up trying a tiny piece of the pickle. It was only after I told her that she could have ice cream after she swallowed it that she stopped threatening to spit it out.

I guess Audrey IS my daughter after all.