The Things We Fight About

In our family, we bicker a lot. And, fight. And, we sometimes argue. It can get pretty silly sometimes. Like the time the boys got into a heated discussion about who moves around more in his sleep. Or the time when all three kids wound up in a cartoonish pile of flailing arms, legs and heads over who should get the last brownie. (I ate it while they were fighting.)

Lately though, I've noticed that there is one particular topic that seems to come up more than any other.

The single biggest item of contention in our house is... Wait for it...

Books.

I know, what could possible be so earth shatteringly, argument-inducing about books? Well, we're a family of bibliophiles. We all read avidly, and now that all five of us are reading. it's gotten a little competitive. We argue over who gets to read a book first, and who has to wait. We fight over who gets to reread the book first, and who gets to have the book next to their bed so they can read first thing in the morning. We have to renew books online, because everyone wants to read the good ones again. We all have multiple books going at once, and we overlap reading a lot, just to make it all good and confusing.


I love that we all love books so much. And, I'm thrilled that we're all readers now. We've got to come up with some sort of Book Treaty though. Rules of conduct and engagement. Stuff like:

1. Thou shalt not grab books out of another reader's hands, regardless of whether or not that reader is taunting you with said book.
   
2. Thou shalt not dog ear the pages, or remove another reader's bookmark, or try to remove pages of particular interest from the book (that last one's for Tater Tot).
   
3. Thou shalt return books to the school library shelf, public library basket, or the shelf from whence it came when finished.
   
4. Thou shalt NOT leave books in the bathtub, the laundry hamper or in the farthest, ickiest back corner under a bed.
5. Thou shalt not hide favorite books in obscure locations and then attempt to charge "finding fees" when asked to locate them.

You see where I'm going here. Maybe writing up The Book Rules will be my weekend project. Right after I finish this great book I'm reading.

The Egg Came Second

This has been a really exciting week around our house. For the first time in five years, eating eggs is not a potentially dangerous activity that results in quarantines and hazmat clean-up gear. Tater Tot spent five hours cooped (chicken pun) up in a tiny 7x7 foot room at the allergy clinic on Monday, and emerged triumphant: an Egg Eater.



Tater Tot was diagnosed with food allergies at the ripe old age of six months. We walked into the allergy clinic that day with plans to stop at McDonald's on the way home, but when we left, we drove straight home instead. She had tested positive for Peanut, Egg, Dairy, Wheat and Soy. I had no idea what we could eat, and I was terrified that even one more allergen-riddled meal from McD's would put Tater back in the hospital again.

It took me a long time to figure out the whole allergy elimination diet thing. Since I was nursing her, I got to cut out all those foods as well. I have to admit that cutting all foods containing those ingredients is the most successful diet I've ever encountered. I dropped weight like a ton of bricks. I was also ravenously hungry for almost a year until I weaned her. She eventually outgrew the wheat and soy, but she was still fairly young when she did, so it wasn't that big a deal in her eyes.





This is different.

She's been watching her brothers enjoy eggs for a long time. She's seen the difference that eggs make when I make Puff Pancakes for the guys. She gets a non-egg version we've dubbed Anti-Puff, and it's as flat and heavy as can be. She's missed out on treats at birthday parties because they contained eggs. Easter was my nemesis.

At the clinic, the eggs I brought for her food challenge were cold and she had to get a lot of them down. It took her a while to figure out how to chew and swallow them. She's never experienced anything quite like them, she told me. "They're kind of like gum," she informed us at the clinic. She wasn't too sure what all the fuss was about.

Now, a few days later, she's become totally obsessed. Every time I turn around, she's either asking for eggs to eat, holding eggs, telling someone else about eggs, or, as I caught her doing this morning, kissing eggs and talking to them in the sing-song voice she uses on dolls and babies.

Imagine if you were suddenly allowed to have something that everyone else has had for years. Since you've never been allowed to have it, you don't know anything about it. Wouldn't you become a little preoccupied?


We spent yesterday at the grocery store walking through the aisles looking for things that she can have now. Meringues, brownies, egg noodles, egg rolls, deviled eggs, mayonnaise, chicken salad, macaroons. It was the most fun I've had grocery shopping in ages.

I am fielding questions about eggs that have never even crossed my mind. For example:

Can you heat one up in the microwave?
Do you eat the shell? Ever? Why not?
Why is the yolk yellow?
Can the yolk be any other colors?
Could the white be other colors?
Would you still call it the white if it wasn't white?
Why is it called the white anyway?
Why is it called a yolk?
Why is the yolk always in the middle when you boil it?
How many different ways can you cook one?
Why does it make Puff Pancakes puff up?
Why do we have to cook them?
What's salmonella?
Was there a chick in here?
Why is the yolk crumbly and not the white?

The list goes on and on and on and on...

This morning, I taught her how to peel a boiled egg. You'd have thought I invented the sun, moon and stars. She was that thrilled. We now have a rather large pile of peeled, boiled eggs in the fridge. She keeps cracking the door open to peek in at them. I never thought I'd enjoy eggs quite so much.

And, I don't even like eggs. I don't think I'll tell her that yet.