THE PEANUT BUTTER DIP

     Early in my life, probably not yours, someone adulterated containers. People got sick, sued, and, voilá born is the Super Seal -- the inner foil, the extra shrink wrap, the tricky cap, and the pay your grandkid to open the lid!

     Around 1982 poison was put in Tylenol.  People died.  Thus was created tamper-resistant packaging.

     We learned things - break the seal by tapping with something heavier, run it under water, pry it with a knife, use rubber circular grip, and "If dad can't do it, no one can, "Where's the nutcrackers?" was the cry across the land.

   Raised on peanut butter, I loved it.  All of it.  "Choosy mothers choose Jif"  Mom was good; she was choosy.  Saturday morning cartoon's Peter Pan was on peanut butter.  Okay, I'll bite.  I liked 'em both.  Skippy, especially the creamy, swirled on the bread like water waves, "Spread on the smiles."  YES!  Let's put it on crackers, coat it with jelly, blend it with syrup, and as the neighbor girl did, sprinkle it with sugar.  Yum!  YUM! and YUM!!!

   Shopping with Mom, and I being a first time mother, we walked through Eavey's grocery store, I grabbed a jar of peanut butter.

   There's nothing like opening new coffee, that first smell is delicious!  And just like coffee, opening a new peanut butter jar, that first smell is delicious!  You can't resist dipping your finger in to take a swipe.  You just can't!  

    Right there in the grocery store, I did just that.  I knew I was going to buy it, so it didn't matter, I got the first best-est nuttiest flavor you could want, that very first dip!  Oh, heaven!  Creamy on the lips, smooth on the tongue, swipe your mouth, swallow, DONE!

   Ut-oh.  The lady behind me was bristling.  She gave me dirty looks.  She was outraged.  She was headed for the manager.  

   LOL, I beat her though.  I got to the cashier first.

   I'll let you in on a totally-unique-to-our-family quirk -- the peanut butter first dip.   For years, bringing in the groceries the boys would help unload and put away.  It took a lot, there were many trips to the car.

   When you know there's more groceries to go get, you can't take the time to make a sandwich, but you sure can be the first to enjoy that aromatic first taste!  Quick.  Unscrew.  Rip seal.  Dip!  Ah, mmmmm!

    It became a game.  Who's first?   

    Oh, ho, mom got into it in the car!  

    Grab the jar to your chest, turn your back, rip off the lid -- swipe!  

    Or, yank the jar out of the bag, and "Ut-oh, brother saw!"  Run down the hall!  Open, rip, and dip at the same time.  "You didn't?!"

"Um, yes I did, um, um good."

    Then there's grab the jar before you're seen and hide it somewhere.  "Hey, where's the peanut butter?"

    You can't tell a lie.  "Come here.  Let me smell you."

    "I smell it!" It's on your breath!"

     Inevitably, there's a tussle, boys vying for the same jar.  Run around the table, laughter, one after the other, the jar held high, current possessor reaching high with the other hand, too, and, "Ah, bummer."  He finagled the first dip.

    If you crouch deeply over it just so, pull it to your navel, and cover protectively with your arms poking out your elbows, stick out your butt to keep predators at bay, you can wrangle the first dip during an attack that way.

     "What are you smiling about?"  "I know you're up to something."  "Hey, I smell...sniff, sniff...I smell...PEANUT BUTTER!"  Oh, no you don't!"  And even though the lid is off, the paper removed, the fist dip hasn't occurred, there's still a chance.  REACH AROUND!  Stick out one finger, DIVE, DIVE!

    It's all fun and games.

    The boys have long been gone.  Some married with children, one engaged, and two living on their own for several years.  And, until recently, I'd totally forgotten about that little quirky family game of ours.  

     Two weeks ago they happened to be around and helped me with the groceries and guess what?  Someone else got the first dip!  There was no evidence, no wide all-knowing-eyes, no smirks, no smacking lips, and, aggravating to me, no tell-tale smell.    

     The inner seal paper was gone, that meant no fingerprints, and no chance for DNA testing.

     Sigh.  DNA testing wouldn't help anyway, they learned it from me, and durn, if they're not all related!

     I need some bread.