Peanut Butter Sausage
So, here I am for a couple of days taking care of two grandsons, Harrison, 3 3/4, and Fisher, 11 months. Yes, I put "3 3/4" 'cause there's a lot of difference in 3 and 4. He'll be 4 in mid-March.
This morning I asked Harrison what he wanted for breakfast. Well, that was my first mistake; his mom has told me before not to ever ask Harrison what he wants to eat - just fix something and tell him that's what he's having.
By the time I remembered her advice, the damage was already done.
Harrison answered that he wanted "peanut butter sausage." I was still half-asleep, so I thought perhaps I was hearing things; I asked again, and again got the same answer: "peanut butter sausage."
I had no idea what peanut butter sausage was. I told Harrison I had no idea what he was talking about. Actually, my exact words were: "What in tarnation is peanut butter sausage?"
He said, "I'll show you." He went to the refrigerator and opened the door. Then, as he looked over the contents, he explained, "You get the sausage out of the drawer and put peanut butter all over it. Then you mix it with milk. And then with cheese. And then with diet Coke. You put grapes next to it."
By then, of course, I knew there was no such thing as peanut butter sausage.
Harrison knows how to play tricks on his grandma. And he does it with such a straight face. And a sweet, innocent one at that.
He had cereal for breakfast.
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