Poor sweet little lobster

On Saturday, the family went to Porter’s birthday party.  Rowan had a blast–pizza, cake, swimming–a great day for a 3-year old.  We got home and vegged for awhile, and then I had a hankering for  . . lobster!  Kathy had told me about a seafood market that opened up close to my work and so I decided to try it out.  I took Rowan with me (she always wants to come now when I go “shopping”).  The place had a tank with live lobsters, and so we picked one out, had it steamed (next time, I’ll call ahead–it took awhile for the water to boil), then brought it home.  I got tacos and a burrito for Leif & Rowan, because I didn’t think she’d try it.

But she wanted to try it, so I let her.  She wasn’t too impressed, which it what I had expected.  But somewhere in between cracking the claws and sucking the meat out of the legs, she became intrigued.  “Poor sweet little lobster,” she said.  Then, “Can I try some?”  So I let her try some, and this time, she was hooked.  I divved up the tail, and once again, “Poor sweet little lobster,” and then loud munching sounds as she scarfed her half.   My mom was so pleased, “There’s Parsons in her yet!”

Author: ~R

I write about life, people, and the things that interest in me. Which often includes death, sex, friendship, and the future of humanity. I hope for the best in people and I prepare for the worst. But no matter what happens, change is constant and everything will be ok.

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