Pining for PBJs

For the longest time I’ve felt deprived. When my daughter was young I was the PBJ Queen of the neighborhood; little people flocked from all around to our house each afternoon for  prerequisite peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before being sent back out; sufficiently fortified and ready to play. Meanwhile, I enjoyed a daily brief repose in the simple joys of childhood when giggles chimed in carefree time and jelly on your face meant you were loved.  Can you tell I’ve always been a fan of PBJs?

But alas, my grandson came along and proved to be a devout hater of peanut butter. Can you imagine?  What child has ever hated peanut butter?  Granted, there are the unfortunate few with peanut allergies, but my grandson is not one of them.  No, he is instead more of a vegetable and all things green type of guy. So much so that I half expected to find him out back eating grass one day. Not such a bad thing, really. But I felt deprived; cheated out of those precious little memory walks I so enjoy.

So naturally, when he rummaged in the pantry for some peanut butter last week, I was stunned! Be still my soaring heart! We had the most exquisitely sweet few moments, giggling and munching away on the patio wall! For a time I couldn’t bear to wash the jelly off his face and secretly wonder if he’d felt the same as he neglected to mention that I had jelly on my face too!

While he still prefers sandwiches with meat and salad (lettuce!), I’ll savor the memory of when we shared a PBJ!

Enjoy the simple moments, folks! It’s addicting. 

First Birthday!