Dinner with June

My dad tells a story about how, when he was growing up, he was slurping his soup loudly at the dinner table, much to his dad's disgust, and my grandfather smacked my dad hard enough in the back of his head to put his face into the soup.

Tonight, I TOTALLY understand where my grandfather was coming from.

We had soup for dinner. The Mrs. correctly predicted that Olivia and June would not be big fans of minestrone soup, so in addition to the little bowls of soup she provided them, she also warmed them up some chicken nuggets and cut up some fresh strawberries.

The girls immediately turned their noses up at the soup, but they enjoyed their nuggets and strawberries. June, watching her older sister drink from a "big girl" cup with no lid, wanted to try her own drink without a lid.

A two-year-old with a lid-less cup of juice is a disaster waiting to happen.

To her credit, it only took one spill of about eight ounces of juice down the front of her shirt to try a different approach to the cup. After refilling her cup, we figured we'd give her another shot at it. Heck, it's bath night tonight, and she's already soaked, anyway.

So June's next strategy was to keep the cup on the table and lean over until she could put her lips on the rim of the cup. Then, ever so carefully, she tipped the cup verrrrry slowly until she could sip some juice. No spills. Much rejoicing from me and the Mrs.

Having been positively reinforced for sipping, her next drink involved even louder sipping. Followed by even louder sipping. Followed by even LOUDER sipping. Until "sipping" was no longer the correct term for the noises coming from that cup. "Slurping" was more accurate. I'm not even sure "slurping" is the right word. What's louder than slurping? Anyway, the Mrs. and I couldn't even hold a conversation over the slurping.

Then June thought it would be funny to blow bubbles in her juice. She sounded like a mini-outboard motor, and juice was flying everywhere, as if said motor was going to town in the cup. So the lid went back on. Enough mess and disgusting noises at the dinner table.

A few seconds later, June set off the alarm. Oh no!! One of her chicken nuggets was gone!! Where might her nugget have gone? Why, in her cup, of course! The Mrs. removed the lid, and sure enough, there was a chicken nugget in the middle of a cup of apple juice. At some point while we weren't looking, June had apparently decided to see if nuggets float. (They do, sort of.)

No problem for June! She was more than happy to shove her hand into her cup, apple juice going halfway up to her elbow (and slopping all over the table), to retrieve the nugget. As she pulled it out, it was, naturally, dripping. And what do you do with a dripping chicken nugget soaked in apple juice?

Well, you wring it out, of course!

Into your soup.

And then you throw your nugget in your soup.

And then take a drink of juice with nugget parts floating in it.

And then eat the nugget.

As I put my head in my hands, trying to suppress my gag reflex, I thought of my grandfather planting my dad's head into a bowl of soup all those years ago. And I understood.