Silflay Hraka

I’m at the store the other day, agonizing over which peanut butter to buy. I’m going back and forth between “Crunchy” and “Creamy”. I can’t decide whether to go with “Jif” or “Peter Pan”. I’m usually a “Jif” guy but I seem to have good memories of Peter Pan as well. It’s down to those two brands because I gave up on the store brand some while ago.

I’m also usually a Crunchy peanut butter guy, but I’m willing to branch out and experiment. I’m also thinking that I have most of a jar of Jif Crunchy back at the house. Breaking free from the constraints of the past, I grab a jar of Peter Pan Creamy.

What do I get for my troubles?

Salmonella.

I am familiar with his conundrum.

One evening it’s just me and the little angels at the dinner table. Tabitha nurses Walker in another room. I have just tried, and failed, to settle the 10th dispute of the evening—who will sit in which seat—with a coin flip. At first they loved this new approach to conflict resolution: It was fair, it was interesting, it was new. And then I pulled out the coin to flip it:

“No, Quinn, shut up, I get to call it!”

My solutions tend to run along the lines of the following; Fine. Both of you can sit on the floor.

Of course, five minutes later, Ngnat and Scotty would discover they like eating off the floor, and demand to do so for the next week .

125, so far.