I have two children who detest peanut butter and I really can't figure out why. Or how. They aren't allergic to it (in fact, no one in our families is allergic to nuts.) My youngest brother hates peanut butter and we used to torture him when he was little by smearing it on him. One could argue that "hatred of peanut butter" is a genetic trait but Anna loves it and the girls are identical so most likely not.
At Halloween, I thought I could sneak in a little PB by feeding them Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. That was a no go.
Grammy brought the girls to Target earlier this week to pick up a few items. Here is the conversation I had with Emily that evening.
"When we were at Tar-jay, Anna was eating a peanut butter cookie and my ear hurt."
"Really? Your ear hurt because Anna was eating a peanut butter cookie."
"Yes. And then my tongue starting hurting."
Oh, the drama. And yes, the girls call it Tar-jay, which always makes me laugh and laugh.
So (completely unrelated but I really didn't want to break these up into two separate posts) let's talk about the girls' animals. The girls do play with dolls but more often that not, they play with their animals. And sometimes the animals are their babies along with dolls.
They are called "animals" in our house. Not lovies, or stuffed animals, or stuffies or plushies. Just straight up animals. The following statements are frequently heard in our house:
"I need to go upstairs to get my animals."
"I need to go check on my animals."
"My animals are hungry. They need breakfast."
And here's what I usually see when I check in on Allie and Em at night.
(From left to right that's Allie, Elmo, The Other Allie, Elmo's Twin, Daisy Duck and Donald Duck.)
Anna doesn't have a set of favorite animals. She goes back and forth between them. Tonight she is sleeping with a pile of about 8 babies next to her. Tomorrow night, she might throw them all out of her bed.