The other day, though, I decided to be gracious and cook a breakfast he'd like. So I whipped up this concoction of eggs and shredded potatoes and bacon crumbles and cheese and onions and green peppers. I even made him coffee, which I don't drink (although there are times when I sorely wish I did). Then I decided to top off the meal by slicing him some jalapeño peppers, which he loves. He was going to be so happy. This was going to be a WIN.
I grabbed the yogurt, ripped the top off the tube, and handed it back to him with a smile. And then got right back to cutting peppers. All was well with the world until I heard a blood-curdling scream from the living room, followed by a high-pitched wail.
"My mouth! Something's wrong with this yogurt!"
With a sinking feeling, I gingerly touched my finger to the tip of my tongue and felt an immediate and intense burning sensation spread across the surface. The same jalapeño-ey fingers that, a moment ago, had been all over the top of Coby's yogurt tube. The part where his mouth went.
At least I didn't pepper-spray the entire house on accident like Curtis did that one time.
But hey, let's just say I was introducing my son to spicy foods via a medium he really enjoys. Like strawberry yogurt.
That sounds better, doesn't it?
PS - Are you a blogger, or have you ever wanted to know what it's like inside the mind of one? Check out this hilarious BabyGizmo video collaboration I got to be a part of (twice!): Sh*t Mom Bloggers Say.