Sramriches and Other Embarrassing Memories

Back in the day, when Alyssa was a tiny tot, she often asked for macamoni and cheese.

It was adorable.

One afternoon a few years ago, my mom was watching Olivia and my nephew Jaxon. They were having tea and snacks.

My mom sliced some lemons for their tea.

Jax loves to eat lemons like normal people would eat an orange.

He announced to the room, “We’re eating womens.”

Olivia gave him a stern look and informed him, “We are NOT eating ladies!”

Jax’s favorite food group is the sandwich. But until very recently, he called them sramriches. I can’t stand the cuteness. His absolute favorite sramrich is the peanut butter and jerry kind.

When Lyss was still eating macamoni and cheese, she’d often ask me, “Mommy, can I have something from the nitchen?”

Because I’m a horrible human being, I’d say to my eighteen month old (no exaggeration, she was speaking in full sentences at a year and a half, don’t judge me, Olivia spoke at three, so it all evens out to average. I’m not bragging, just telling it like it is.) “But Lyssie, we don’t have a nitchen.”

And she’d reply with the haughtiest of tones, “Mom. You know I mean kitchen.”

Can I remind everyone that she was eighteen months old at that time of these conversations?

Jaxon’s favorite president is Hammerham Lincoln.

We fought an endless battle with Olivia to get her to stop using her shirt sleeve as a napkin. Tom finally gave up the fight and cut the bottoms off old socks, creating what he called, “Sleevekins.” The cuffs of the socks fit perfectly over O’s arms and sleeves, creating a removable area she could wipe her mouth on and save the sleeves of her shirt. Tom’s an innovative fella.

For the record, she hasn’t had to use a sleevekin for several years. We’re not completely disgusting over here.

Until a couple of years ago (Jaxon is eleven, by the way) he called my girls Ryssie and Ribbie. I think I might love this kid.

I want to remember these things so I can tell these stories at each of their graduations. Because that’s what we oldies do to the younguns, that’s why.