Every kid growing up seems to find a liking for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I was a crunchy girl, my sister creamy. The jelly has many different selections to pick from, but in the end it's still peanut butter and jelly.
Unfortunately for me one sad Saturday, we ran out of peanut butter. All peanut butter gone. None to be found anywhere in the house. So, what's a mom to do but improvise. Hence the cream cheese and jelly sandwiches. Now, to make matters worse we had just returned from the store with a brand new bubble kit which we were told that after we finished our lunch, we could play with.
From bite one, I wanted to gag. It's a texture thing. I bit that thing and it just stuck and would not move. It was just a glob of yukiness on the roof of my mouth that no amount of water could get down. I cried, begged pleaded, but my mom stood firm. (I understand this now being a mom. Once the gauntlet of "because I said so" is thrown down it needs to be followed through on.)
To make matters worse, my sister loved hers. She gobbled hers down and was out the door in a heartbeat. More tears. More gagging. More sadness. She would run in, come on Diane, hurry up. Let's play with those bubbles. Occasionally, I was able to talk her into taking a small bite to help me along, but that was the longest hour and a half of my life. Friends that are close to me know that I am still damaged from the cream cheese trauma. Unless it is incredibly camouflaged and if no one tells me that it's in there, I can eat it hidden. Along with taste, it's a mental thing now too. Another scar of childhood takes it's ugly toll.....