Monday, July 9, 2012

Peanut butter pockets 10 times fast


"Say peanut butter pockets 10 times fast."

"Peanut butter pockets 10 times fast."

Sam laughs. "No, no. Say peanut butter pockets, 10 times fast."

"Peanut butter pockets 10 times fast."

Laughs and groans from Sam. "OK. Say peanut butter pockets."

"Peanut butter pockets."

"Now say it 10 times fast."

"It-it-it-it-it-it-it-it-it-it."

"MOM!"

And so it went. While Sam and I were lost in the twisty turning Bermuda Triangle that is backwoods Muskoka, I drove him positively bonkers playing dumb and managing to avoid saying peanut butter pockets 10 times fast.

"What?"

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No, I'm doing what you say."

"OK. In quotes," and he makes quote marks with his 11-year-old fingers, "Peanut. Butter Pockets. End quote." Fingers make end quotes. "Got that?"

"Yes," I say. Rolling my eyes with great overstated fervour.

"Now, say that."

"That."

"MOM!"

Maybe it was the sweet smell of Don's Bakery goodies wafting up from the back of the Jeep. Maybe it was the hot weather deep frying our sense of humour like a Scottish Mars bar but Sam and I had the best time Friday afternoon. Having been given the afternoon off, a Friday afternoon on a sunny summer day which is as fine a gift as baccarat crystal filled with Dom Perignon champagne, I decided I would drag Sam to the Butter Tart Festival being held by my company in Port Carling, Ontario. We got to Port Carling alright but there were SO many people and SO many cars and so (all cap it yourself) much everything that we never found the festival. We tried unsuccessfully to park a few times before I said to Sam, "let's just go." And he said, "Great!" Because he doesn't even like butter tarts. (Insane, I know. It must be because of the time I dropped him on his head.)

Since we were in the area anyway, and since I had a fever for butter tarts, we decided to go to nearby Bala, home of the world famous Don's Bakery. I spent half a week's pay on perfect butter tarts, incredible chelsea bun, egg bread and cookies. Fifty drooling dollars worth of awesomeness. Then we decided to go visit my blogging friend Debbie, who lives not too far away.

Now, I had only been there once. A long time ago. But I figured I would remember. Well, we did find it. Forty-five minutes of back roads and wrong turns and getting unbelievably lost later, all the while driving Sam into gales of giggles trying to avoid saying peanut butter pockets 10 times fast. He laughed, I played dumb, butter tart fumes made the Jeep smell like a bowl of brown sugar heaven and I must say it was the best afternoon I had ever spent with my youngest son. Possibly ever. So thanks, Sam. And this is just for you:

Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets. Peanut butter pockets.



19 comments:

  1. Hey, if you can't mess with your kid's head, whose head can you mess with, right?
    Now I'll take some of those peanut butter pockets, thanks.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. *passes them along with a big glass of milk*

      Delete
  2. HE DOESN'T LIKE BUTTER TARTS??????? Sam, we need to talk.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I KNOW! Weird, right? Actually he's never even TRIED one. Mr. Picky Pants just assumes they're poison because they have Dreaded Raisins.

      Delete



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      Delete
  3. You'll have to find some without raisins LOL And I'm still wondering... what are peanut butter pockets?

    Thanks for the conifer ID on mine.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You know what, Stephanie? I HAVE NO IDEA what a peanut butter pocket is!!!! I think he was making up tongue twisters and settled on that!

      Oh, hey, no problem on the ID -Dave and I had a great time looking online for pinecone pictures!

      Delete
  4. OK, I had to say it ten times - now I feel foolish.
    the Ol'Buzzard

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  5. I love those silly days with the kids! Tell Sam it's the mom's God-given right to play dumb, be silly and generally enjoy her offspring.

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  6. I've never heard of those. Is that a Canadian thing?
    And that sounds like a conversation I'd be having with my own "Sam."

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  7. "Peanut Butter Pockets" , got it yet? LOL ... love the post, miss my 29 year old son being 11 !

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  8. ummm butter tarts only thing that beats them are maple butter tarts

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  9. You may have a lovely half day off, and you may have fun with Sam, but

    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.
    You are a cruel, cruel woman.

    At lease give us directions to Don's Bakery.

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  10. May memories of that day with your son never fade away. They're sweeter than any bakery goodies can ever hope to be.

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  11. you had me at 'peanut butter pockets'!!!! YUM!

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  12. Aww, that sounds like fun! Poor Sam :-)

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  13. Sounds like a great afternoon. I think one Sam will likely remember forever. Big smile here. Thanks.

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  14. Oh my goodness this narrative made me laugh! Perfect! I was right there in Sam's shoes: feeling equal parts exasperated and delighted with the joke. Wonderful. (As are the sight of those peanut butter tarts!)

    Egg bread and butter tarts. You're speaking my language, woman.

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  15. (Geez. You'd think after reading it so many times, I'd have noticed they were PB 'pockets' and not 'tarts' ;))

    ReplyDelete

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