Thursday, December 17, 2009
shouldn't I be talking about christmas?
This should be a post full of holiday loveliness, but instead it's about that jar right above you sitting alongside the dish soap. And unless you were raised on this stuff since conception in your mother's womb, you will probably run out of the room with a dreadful look on your face once I reveal what's inside.
I can't tell you how many days were spent in the elementary school cafeteria taking pleasure in "grossing" the other kids out with my daily lunch staple. They had never seen anything so black and thick, and the smell alone often sent them a few shuffles away down the bench. What first was a worry that everyone would throw themselves into a jealous frenzy desperate to trade, soon became a realization that the only ones asking to trade were probably encouraged to do so through some sort of dare.
I loved it. I loved it so much that I was determined to pass the affection for this British staple down to my children. (much to my husband's dismay....he would have been one of those kids shuffling away at the lunch table) They were both introduced to it during pregnancy through my daily breakfast menu of tea and marmite on toast. For nine months I devoured it, and for nine months my husband ran out of the kitchen covering his nose desperate to avoid the smell.
My boys love it. My youngest one loves it so much, that we have had to move the jar to the back of the sink in an attempt to prevent him from pulling everything out of the pantry to get to it.
Apparently this "in the womb" introduction works quite well......so well that now the poor hubby has three smelly marmite mouths to run away from.
How's that for a good holiday related post?