My kids love them some Asian pears. At their tol (the traditional Korean first birthday party), Buddy locked in on those pears as soon as they were placed on the table. The party hadn’t started yet so my uncle tried multiple times to keep the pears away from him, to no avail. Buddy would just give up one pear and calmy reach for the next one in the bowl. Later, The Bean had a beautiful bowl of gnawed pears from which to choose.
Yesterday, I spotted Asian pears at our grocery store and bought a couple because, you know, we live in the ’burbs and it’s not often I see the word Asian anywhere — I practically pee in my pants and have to buy whatever it is that advertises the word Asian. (Thank God there are no Asian hookers advertising in the ’burbs or I’d be in trouble.) They’re never as good, juicy or sweet as the ones my dad brings in crates straight from Frushing, but suburban beggars can’t be choosers (I’m talking about the pears, not the hookers, but damn — you can use either subject in that sentence and disturbingly, it would make sense).
This morning:
Bean can’t stop eyeing the pears and, after eating just half of her oatmeal, shoves her bowl away and asks, “Agent pear? Agent pear?” Buddy immediately drops his waffle and joins in: “Agent pear, Mom!”
So I slice off some sides and hand them over. The Bean turns the slice over on her plate — flat side down — cups her hand over it, and claims, “Look Mom, a compooter!” as I continue to cut.
Computer? Huh? [Nearly slice finger off watching her, trying to decipher toddler-coded language and how the hell pear relates to computer.]
And then: “Look Mom, I push on it too!” [Digs little index finger into it.]
Oooh — a mouse! ‘Genius!’ I think. ‘Resourceful! Imaginative!’ And then… guilt. She’s falling into my addicted footsteps already. These kids must think the mouse is an appendage of my hand.
But, for now, she happily alternates between dragging and clicking the ‘computer’ around her plate as she surfs the beanernet, then gnawing on it as juice and saliva drip down her chin.
5 Comments
I’m impressed that Buddy could handle one of those massive pears at his tol! Em likes them too, but she has a harder time with Asian pears and apples right now with all of the molar-related teething. She is, however, a pro at trying to shut down her mommy’s computer. Perhaps that’s a message to me? *snif*
(Catching up slowly on the past posts!)
Too funny, “Agent pear” - I had a friend who thought the song “Secret Agent Man” was “Secret Asian Man”… that connection made me laugh that the twins call them Agent pears.
LN also loves Asian pears - too funny, I did the same thing the other day; I saw the words “Asian pears” and just had to get them. (Sad thing is that I don’t even live in the suburbs!) Your twins are too cute - I have secretly wanted boy-girl twins…
halfmama - I love this picture, the expression on Buddy as he proceeds to maw the pear! How amazing to have boy/girl twins … I also kinda would love to torture myself similarly. Glad I found your blog!
kim: I think it took Buddy about 45 minutes to finish one pear (of course, he took at least one bite from many). He was very determined with that pear.
mama nabi: I thought of “Secret Asian Man” too, but I wasn’t clever enough to tie it in. However, have you seen this? Secret Asian Man. Very funny.
carol: Torture is sometimes the right word.
But so is amazing.
I am crying from laughing so hard at Bean’s serenade on your f-day vid, and the look on Buddy’s face has pushed me over the edge. I have to meet you and the kids some day.
as for you and your hookers, well, I do not judge on matters of sexual preference.