begging

my son is begging to take the little clear plastic bag to school, crinkling the cellophane in his grubby fist as he pleads with me. "i promised i would," he blinks his steady blue-grey eyes at me, "i promised. please? how about if i just take one?"

i look at the calendar. "not during testing week. you're not supposed to have that stuff at all, but not this week. next week you may."

"YESSSSSSSS." he leaps into the air, pumping his fist triumphantly.

booger.
black pepper.
earthworm.
dirt.
ear wax.
sausage.
grass.
vomit.
soap.
sardine.
pickle.
rotten egg.

those are what the little man is so happy about. he's sharing a bag of bertie bott's every flavor beans with his classmates, currently manufactured by the best of the best: jelly belly. so you can guarantee your vomit bean will actually taste like vomit. with a candy coating. for some reason, my son is the only kid in the third grade who has heard of these raunchy candies from the harry potter series, and santa claus himself delivered small pouches of them into stockings this past christmas. i haven't yet figured out if they were inplace of coal or if they were actually supposed to be a good gift. after the first few "ick" faces, the novelty of the bertie bott's wore off and only one child continued to eat them. and now all the third grade boys are begging - BEGGING - for a taste of earthworm and dirt mixed together. maybe a rotten egg and sausage? sardine and pepper, anyone?

ah, yes. fifteen minutes of fame indeed.