a) your mom is making cake frosting and tells you not to take any from the big mixer. She leaves the room briefly and you of course swipe some. At this point, though, the frosty white stuff is still PURE CRISCO!
b) bakers choclate. Enough said.
c) The day after the last day of kindergarten I and a few other kids helped the teacher clean things up, and afterwards she took us to the deli for a drink. Being shy I lingered at the back of the cue. By the time I got to choose something the chocolate milk was all gone. . . for some realon I decided on a V8.
d) zucchini bread is not much like banana bread to a 1st grader.
e) adult aspirin is not nearly as pleasant as baby aspirin.
I grabbed a piece of presliced cheese from the fridge and whacked it in my gob, only to discover that I hadn’t ripped the plastic off properly. Then being unable to breathe, I have to find mum (who was hanging out the washing), she sticks her fingers down my throat and rips out the plastic. You can bet I check it properly before I give it to my kids.
Not quite a surprize, but one day when I was in second grade, I didn’t eat the crust on my tuna sandwhich (tuna and mayo only) on white bread and stuck the crusts in my milk carton–which had just a touch of milk in it. My teacher–okay, it was a nun, but this is not an evil nun story–she saw me and told me “children are starving in Africa, you’re goiing to eat all of your lunch.” She made me take the crusts out of the carton and eat them–soggy and just so white. From then on, I refused to drink plain milk with tuna sandwiches, only chocolate milk.
Then there was the time Mom fed me venison, but called it something else, just to see if I objected to eating Bambi, or if I really didn’t like the taste. I complained the whole meal, so Mom finally believed me when I said I didn’t like venison. Not to mention the fact that she was trying to make me eat Bambi.
Went to a friend of my father’s house for dinner when I was about 8 or so. Thought I was eating fried chicken when someone told me I was “eating Thumper.”
Ditto on the baker’s chocolate
… and vanilla extract
… and cream of tartar (it says cream on the label… shouldn’t it be creamy?)
Originally posted by Theobroma
**Chocolate malt with a LOT of strawberry pulp in it sounds pretty good to me… **
Oh, yeah, a LOT is fine…it’s the little-tiny-bit-of-what-the-hell-IS-this that’s disturbing when it comes flying up through the straw at you and you aren’t expecting it. It’s the unknown factor that was more disturbing to me than anything (sorry, I should’ve clarified that in my original post).
Could be a dead fly, could be a fingernail…::shudders::
I got very very car sick as a kid so my parents came up with new and inventive ways of feeding me travel sickness medication as I could never swallow tablets. They tried jam on a spoon, holding me down and forcing them down etc the worst - eating favourite breakfast cereal in the world in my childlike innocence not realising this was not a usual occurance (it wasn’t natural and good for you like we normally ate) I get to the bottom of the bowl and find ground up yellow powder that tasted funny. Mmmmm what is this I wonder I ask if they had tried to feed me the medicine in my cereal and I was told no and would my mom lie to me and I obviously didn’t love my mom if I thought she would do that to me. Torn between knowing I loved my parents but also now realising that adults lie I promptly vomited everything up and continued to do so for the 7 hour car journey.
:eek:
I grew out of my car sickness but I have never been able to eat cereal and milk ever again and this was about 15 years ago.
Out at a nice restaurant with the folks, and the restaurant puts little tiny scoops of ice cream, about the size of a super-ball on a little dish, right next to the bread basket (should have been my first clue). I decided to have mine real quick before it melts, so I gobble up an entire scoop.
It takes a LOT of bread to sop up that much butter in your mouth.
Drinking some of the milk in the measuring cup before mom puts it in the cake, and discovering that I don’t like buttermilk.
A teacher’s brother who was on a trip into St. Louis with us having a sip of the teacher’s coffee. Thing is, the teacher had stopped using it as a coffee cup and started using it as a spittoon for his ‘chaw’. I give the guy credit, he made it to the bushes about 15 meters away before he barfed in front of 15 6th graders.
I once found a small dish of powdered sugar in the refrigerator, and decided Mom wouldn’t miss a spoonful of it. It turned out that it was baking soda she was using to deodorize the fridge. There wasn’t enough stuff in the world to take that nasty taste out of my mouth.
When my parents were having a party I took a big swig out of a glass that resembled the one I was drinking from, filled with ginger ale. Only it wasn’t ginger ale, it was something like vodka and soda which tastes horrendous to a 5-year old. For years that was my only association to alcoholic drinks and I thought everything would taste like that.
We were having applesauce for dessert, and I covered mine with a nice layer of cinnamon. Took a giant bite, and discovered that the cinnamon was actually nutmeg! BLECCH! I can’t stand nutmeg, especially since that fateful day.
Ditto on baker’s chocolate, and the same for that last forgotten bar of Hershey’s that had apparently sat in the pantry at the cabin, next to the mothballs, for 4 or 5 years. Ugh. I also snuck into the craft supply closet at preschool, and stuffed a handful of Froot Loops into my mouth. Halfway through chewing, I realized they weren’t very crunchy, and tasted like the room smelled. I felt very sorry for myself.
Around age 4, I put a green tupperware kid cup with my milk in it onto the counter, which at the time was above my head. I returned a few hours later, grabbed the cup, and drank…but it was COFFEE. BLEAH To this day I can’t stand coffee.
Champagne ice cream and champagne cake at this party of an older lady my dad worked for. Some drunk guy had put extra champagne in the ice cream too. Champagne is nasty to a 6-year-old.
When I was a little kid, I used to drink black cherry juice in the morning with my breakfast. One morning, I took out the bottle, forgetting that I had finished it the previous morning, and poured myself a big glass. Unfortunately, my mom had chosen to store some cooking wine in that bottle. Taking a big swig of that was a nice surprise for a seven year-old. Except it wasn’t.
Back in the '70’s I had some relatives that still lived way out in the sticks with no electricity. They weren’t really bothered by it (they’r kinda simple).
One year they all came to Christmas Dinner. My grandmother served dinner, cleared the table and called all the kids back in for dessert. The kids jumped up to the table and immediately all of them started screaming and crying and ran away.
It was Jello.
Moving food is kinda scary when you’ve never seen it before.