Paper – Scissors – Rotten egg

A tradition of giving the girls boxes of jelly beans for Valentines Day has emerged from somewhere in our family. There was no intention for it to take hold, but strong as a weed this practice has taken hold of our holiday garden. Someone has to be to blame for this turn of events, but I will not name names, although for the sake of the conversation I will just say that it has something to do with a male in the house… an old male that has an affinity for sugar in any cloak.

So this year it was expected of us to provide the jelly beans and we dutifully expressed our love in colorful flavored little poops. Oups, jewels. Pardon the intended slip.

Then the kids wanted to go to jelly beans DOT COM, cause you see, now they want to go to anything dot com.

– Mum, can we go to dinner dot com?

– Mum, lets check out fart dot com!

And while browsing the website a different kind of bean was discovered. A yucky tasting bean. This appealed a lot to our Harry Potter fan – aka. Miss Fab – whose eyes gleamed at the thought of it.Unfortunately Mr.Blab says that they dont sell those in Aussie land and the subject is sadly closed.

Then, few days later while browsing a favorite shop of ours, she suddenly squeals behind me and runs, hair floating after her and barely holding on, box in hand…the time stops… The yucky tasting bean!

By yucky, I mean yucky. Booger anyone?

Back home we decide on a plan to enjoy this horrible taste sensation. Since each bean can be either nice or not we decide to play paper scissors rock with each other. The one that loses has to pick up a bean and eat it, taking it upon themselves to carry the risk of tasting some vomit or , if lucky, baby wipes.

We prepare the arena. A plate with the weapons. Glasses of water to wash off any horrid taste and a few pieces of biscuits to vanish any left over unpleasantness in one’s oral cavity. And most importantly an empty plate for spitting in, just in case the situation is so bad that the contents of the bean cannot be chewed and swallowed.

Ready, steady, go!

The bravest of them all was Little B. She popped the first one in without any hesitation. And ate it.  A lot of laughing is happening, some of it nervous, cause we are not sure what we are dealing with here. Game continues.

The empty plate aint empty anymore.

I got it bad. Luck was not on my side. My first bean was moldy cheese. SPIT! Horror, hurry water! Shove the biscuit.

My second bean was rotten egg! Ok, this was truly knee trembling disgusting. As soon as my teeth cracked that bean I knew. I knew I had a problem on my hands. Spit! Spit! SPIT! The taste stayed with me for a long time and the memory of it for a few days.

A lot of funny moments, spitting, running around, snorting laughing and teary eyes was had that afternoon. After heroically taking her fair share of yucko delight, Little B decided she didnt want to play anymore. I was second to pull out, after stumbling over all the worst poops on the plate. Mr. Blab was all manly, all brave and gracious with his few Black Pepper and baby wipes tastes. But after me, he got some vomit and after that some rotten egg, after which he was running for a cloth to wipe his tongue with and for comic effect (so he said) returned with floss between his teeth. After this he gave me credit for staying in the game with such a sucky luck.

Miss Fab was strong after a slow start.  I was impressed with their ability to deal with these bind boggling tastes. I hope its not my cooking…

Dont do this at home! Its a stupid thing to do, k!