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| image by Tarehna Wicker |
When I was a kid, I went through this phase where I just could not look at my mom while she was eating, at least not at home. I’m not exactly one for the strictest of table manners; I talk with my mouth full and I eat everything with my hands. But I was, oddly, a little bit more of a neat-nick as a child, especially when it came to food. And my beloved mother frequently looked like someone had run over her face with a lunch truck.
I got over it by the time I was 10 or so, and now it’s something that strikes me as hilarious on the rare occasion I think of it at all. Here I was, all of 8, absolutely horrified that my mother had a swipe of peanut butter across one cheek. What can I say; I was kind of a strange kid.
