It’s A Sad Day
My kids have suddenly discovered “organic” and “natural” and “raw” diets, and are trying desperately to raise their children like little 19th century ragamuffins. I expect, along with all processed foods, electricity will soon be banned from their homes. That is until it’s elebenty-hunnert degrees all up in here. This is Texas after all.
Hey I’m all for going organic, or orgreenic, or whatever the hell the kids call it these days. It’s just that when I was a kid we called it “go out to the garden and grab a bowlful of beans”, because that’s what we did. And then we had to snap the beans, or shell the peas, or whatever it took to rid the vegetables of the things we weren’t going to eat. Of course, after that the cook (my grandmothers in this case) would make wizardry out of those things and we’d eat till we thought we’d burst.
Anyway, whenever we could we’d run to the nearest store and load up on the foods kids really crave. Like Laffy Taffy, Slo-Pokes, Jolly Ranchers, Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum, and Coke or Pepsi to wash it all down with. Except the bubble gum. It lost its flavor after about four chews, but we hung onto that shit all day; carrying it on the end of our index fingers as we ate or drank, then putting it back in our mouths to chew on getting every last bit of the putty-tasting goodness out of it we could.
Naturally, I figured my grandchildren would run straight to my candy or cookie jar the minute they broke free from the chains of organics their parents shackle them with when they’re not with us.
Boy, was I wrong.
I offered my 6-yr. old granddaughter an Oreo cookie. Manna from heaven if you ask me, but not in her mind….
“Grammy, what are these?”
“Oreos, punkin. Haven’t you ever had an Oreo?”
“Not like these. Are these the organic kind?”
“No, they’re the good kind.” I said, chuckling.
“I don’t think I should eat them. They’re not organic, so they can’t be good for me.”
“So, are you saying that there’s an organic cookie that’s like this but it’s safe to eat because it’s organic, and this one’s not?” I asked, incredulous.
“Let me see the package.”
Mind you, she’s SIX YEARS OLD.
“Okay, “ I said, handing it over to her.
“Hmmm….see?” She said after looking over the ingredients, “It has hydrogen..something. Not good.”
She’s SIX, people.
“You shouldn’t eat them either, Grammy.”
I stared at first her and then the package of cookies.
“You’re probably right.” I said, grabbing a handful and proceeding to dunk.