When I was a kid my favorite food was Mexican and, though we rarely went out to eat, on special occasions we would eat at a place called Old Mexico. I think its now a Yoga haven. With its arches and bright colors and dark tile floors, I thought we were actually in Mexico.
As a child the world seems larger than it really is. The trip to the restaurant was probably 10 minutes but it felt like we were trekking to a new world. Entering the restaurant, things that are commonplace now, seemed like a dream world at the time. New people, new places, everything seemed wondrous and filled me with awe.
My strongest memory of Old Mexico was the time I went with just my father and my brother Dinsey. I looked up to my dad and to be able to spend this time alone with him was such a treat. He was my hero, this tall, quiet Atticus Finch of a man. He knew the answers to every question. He was kind to other people. Because I asked, he read me Pinnochio before bed every night and never seemed bored with it. He even did the Stromboli voice, and it was so scary I giggled.
Everything was perfect, Mexican food in Old Mexico with my dad...
But I never liked spicy food though so my dad always made sure everything I ate was mild as mild can be. On this occasion I decided to branch out, to be a part of the grown-up world. I asked my dad what that was on his plate. "An olive" he said and let me eat it.
Except it wasn't an olive. It was a pepper. I remember the embers alighting in my mouth slowly. I didn't quite understand what was happening but I was pretty sure I smelled betrayal. My mouth was on fire and I held it in as long as I could, the tears streaming down my face, to be a "good girl" because I didn't want to ruin this night. But after a while my face felt like it was melting and I started to bawl and an old couple at the next table gave me some chips and a waiter ran in the back for some milk. I was trying to be good but I was in so much pain. Eventually the fire in my mouth was put out but by that point my special night in Old Mexico with my daddy had turned into a traumatic event and I was a sweaty tear-streaked pepper-mouthed mess.
To this day when I eat olives at my dad's house, I ask "Dad are you sure this is a fucking olive?" And to this day the old man still feels bad for accidentally feeding his 7 year old jalapeno peppers.
In one meal, I learned parents aren't perfect, olives aren't always olives, and Old Mexico is not heaven.
What's the worst thing you accidentally did to your kid? Do you remember a time when a parent had an oopsy like this?
As a child the world seems larger than it really is. The trip to the restaurant was probably 10 minutes but it felt like we were trekking to a new world. Entering the restaurant, things that are commonplace now, seemed like a dream world at the time. New people, new places, everything seemed wondrous and filled me with awe.
My strongest memory of Old Mexico was the time I went with just my father and my brother Dinsey. I looked up to my dad and to be able to spend this time alone with him was such a treat. He was my hero, this tall, quiet Atticus Finch of a man. He knew the answers to every question. He was kind to other people. Because I asked, he read me Pinnochio before bed every night and never seemed bored with it. He even did the Stromboli voice, and it was so scary I giggled.
Everything was perfect, Mexican food in Old Mexico with my dad...
 |
| Jalapenos are not my friend |
Except it wasn't an olive. It was a pepper. I remember the embers alighting in my mouth slowly. I didn't quite understand what was happening but I was pretty sure I smelled betrayal. My mouth was on fire and I held it in as long as I could, the tears streaming down my face, to be a "good girl" because I didn't want to ruin this night. But after a while my face felt like it was melting and I started to bawl and an old couple at the next table gave me some chips and a waiter ran in the back for some milk. I was trying to be good but I was in so much pain. Eventually the fire in my mouth was put out but by that point my special night in Old Mexico with my daddy had turned into a traumatic event and I was a sweaty tear-streaked pepper-mouthed mess.
To this day when I eat olives at my dad's house, I ask "Dad are you sure this is a fucking olive?" And to this day the old man still feels bad for accidentally feeding his 7 year old jalapeno peppers.
In one meal, I learned parents aren't perfect, olives aren't always olives, and Old Mexico is not heaven.
What's the worst thing you accidentally did to your kid? Do you remember a time when a parent had an oopsy like this?
21 comments:
Oh no!!!!
I accidentally gave my kid some BBQ sauce without tasting it when she was 4 or 5. I've never had anything but, you know, the "regular" kind of BBQ sauce so I didn't think anything of it until her face turned purple. Turns out I gave her some super spicy specialty sauce. Ugh.
In accordance with the wishes of thousands, I have not reproduced.
Once upon a time when I was a toddler, I downed half a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. According to my parents, my screams after that outdid any other screaming I did.
Now I want to repeat a question to you I recently posed on the Scrubgenius Google Group:
I was thinking about how marketers have ads with "Remember their first steps?" sorts of appeals to sentiment and remembrance.
And one such "first" grabbed my interest, and I've never heard anybody talk about it.
Tell me about when you first truly realized your child was a carnivore. I'm thinking about toddler's first encounter with prime rib or similarly drippy meat; that sort of stuff.
Poor baby! You trust your parent so much and then boom! she burns you... lets you down. Just kidding
I'm sure you felt as bad as my dad. Hopes she like bbq now :)
Yucky! I once at a gigantic spoonful of wasabit because I thought it was guacamole!
Cal didn't really start eating a lot of meat until a few years ago. Pasta was way cheaper, so that's what we went with. We would, on occasion, have ribs or tri tip (hence the bbq sauce) but not often. Last year, I took her for some prime rib and she just devoured that thing like an animal. Maybe then?
My daughter, almost three at the time, had just made a huge fucking mess at a Mexican restaurant and topped it off by spilling a large glass of lemonade everywhere, including into her mommy's lap.
Then she spied the large pepper on my plate. "Can I have that?" She asked? You bet! She took a big bite, paused for about 3 seconds, then said, "I need to wash my tongue!"
This may explain why she asks mommy for confirmation now after I answer a question for her.
Oh no!
I am terrified of heights. Terr. I. Fied. When I was five my parents took me to Disneyland, and on Space Mountain. Some moron told my dad it was okay for a kid to go on, and I must have met the height requirement so I'm sure he thought it was fine. Until we got on it and I flipped out, then passed out.
To this day my dad's entire face drops if this is brought up, he blames himself for my lifelong fear (I don't). Whatever, parent fails happen to everyone, and I've yet to meet a kid that came with a manual.
Some things are hard not to eat like an animal. Ribs especially. You just can't be a lady and have you some ribs. Shit's gonna get messy.
I love kids who really love to eat and just get into it like rawr! ;)
I am not afraid of heights but I am afraid of being on a roller coaster in the dark that careens you into a bright red light. Space Mountain scared the bejesus out of me. My friends took their kids to Disneyland recently and I said "don't take the kids to Space Mountain its terrifying!!" and they all looked at me like I was nuts.
My dad's face USE to drop when the jalapeno story was brought up. I asked him about it today and he couldn't remember it at all. Thanks Pop. All he said was "I hope to hell I didn't do that on purpose!!"
Tough love man, tough love. That's what Daddy's are for, apparently.
When my daughter was about 3 she asked me where something was while I was ironing. I gestured in the direction of lost item with the iron. Some super heated water came out and landed on her head. It was only a few drops, but she howled in pain. Luckily, she calmed pretty quickly, but I felt horrible.
Oh god I thought you were about to say you accidentally burned her with the iron! Phew!
I guess what's what she gets for asking questions huh? kidding! ;)
For years my kids would freak out when I told them that I'd put squid and/or octopus in my meals. During a night out my son sampled a piece of calamari from my plate and fell in love. He is 15 now and still doesn't know what calamari is, but he knows he likes it. Now I put "calamari" in my seafood stew instead of squid. He likes it much better that way!
The "betrayal" line and the closing thoughts killed me. This was freaking hilarious. As a kid, in an actual Mexican family, if we played with our food, my grandmother would put hot green chile into our meal and make us eat it. Come to think of it, that was a pretty shit thing to do. Maybe it's time to return the favor?
Crazy grandmas are awesome. Be nice to her.
Unless she's mean, then spike away. "It's called karma, abuelita!"
Clever! :) Run for cover when he finds out though!
I love japolenos! This is a great story.
OMG brilliant: "I didn't quite understand what was happening but I was pretty sure I smelled betrayal."
This totally reminded me of the time I ate a pepper on accident and grabbed my dad's MARTINI - thinking it was water - to wash it down.
Yeah. That shit was tragic.
Great post!
Haha! How old were you? That must have been a shock. Your mouth is on fire and then you down gin/vodka.
What a night! :)
Riiiight?!? Talk about adding insult to injury. I think I was 4 or 5...
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