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of my son and cephalopods
May. 20th, 2019 08:01 pmCephalopod #1: I just made pan fried squid for m'boy, which was also my first attempt at cooking squid. That's not such a big deal, but it's a bigger deal that he ate it. Half of it, anyway: he said he didn't like the texture. Ah, well, a lot of people don't like squid even under ideal conditions, and the Wendling has been sensitive to the texture of food - hello, autistic spectrum! - since he was a toddler.
The recipe was a recipe from Mark Bittman's How To Cook Everything, which I altered by fortuitous accident because my son hates cooked greens. Chile, minced garlic, green onions, salt, ba da boom, ba da bing. A whole lot of juice cooked out of the squid.
Cephalopod #2: While I was out and about with the Tickler on Sunday, she wanted to hit Archie McPhee's. For you out-of-towners, Archie's is a fabulous purveyor of novelties, gag gifts, and various odds and ends like glove molds. Their collection of rubber arthropods, reptiles, and other crawly things is unmatched in my experience.
I was reminded that when my son was much younger, he had a squeaky, glow-in-the-dark rubber octopus, surely from Archie's, that I named Squeakipus. Squeakipus would squeak and I would translate. Squeakipus was a grown-up but friendly octopus.
That was long ago, though, and Squeakipus got lost somewhere along my son's way back to Seattle. Until Saturday, that is, when I was delighted to find another glow-in-the-dark rubber octopus. (I gave the accompanying tiny frogmen to the Tickler, who has a collection of tiny plastic creatures.)
Squeakipus has a serious purpose for me: Squeakipus squeaks, but he never yells.
The recipe was a recipe from Mark Bittman's How To Cook Everything, which I altered by fortuitous accident because my son hates cooked greens. Chile, minced garlic, green onions, salt, ba da boom, ba da bing. A whole lot of juice cooked out of the squid.
Cephalopod #2: While I was out and about with the Tickler on Sunday, she wanted to hit Archie McPhee's. For you out-of-towners, Archie's is a fabulous purveyor of novelties, gag gifts, and various odds and ends like glove molds. Their collection of rubber arthropods, reptiles, and other crawly things is unmatched in my experience.
I was reminded that when my son was much younger, he had a squeaky, glow-in-the-dark rubber octopus, surely from Archie's, that I named Squeakipus. Squeakipus would squeak and I would translate. Squeakipus was a grown-up but friendly octopus.
That was long ago, though, and Squeakipus got lost somewhere along my son's way back to Seattle. Until Saturday, that is, when I was delighted to find another glow-in-the-dark rubber octopus. (I gave the accompanying tiny frogmen to the Tickler, who has a collection of tiny plastic creatures.)
Squeakipus has a serious purpose for me: Squeakipus squeaks, but he never yells.
