Turning into Swedish Fish.

In our family it doesn’t take long for something to become a “tradition.”  Do it a couple times, and whatever it is easily becomes part of standard procedure.  Take for example, one time not so long ago when Grandma visited we went to the Old Cannery Furniture shop with the boys.  They have a candy section in the center of the store, and we left with a couple bags full of swedish fish.

When Grandma was here last weekend, we went to the Old Cannery yet again…. I’m clearly dreaming of new furniture.  And again, Quentin and Kaden left as the proud owners of their own bags of swedish fish candy.  The boys were buckled in their car seats and we headed for home.  It was silent in the car as they chopped on their treats.

I looked back at Quentin with an all knowing motherly smile and said, “Better not eat too many of those fish.  You might turn into one.”  Quentin immediately froze, and you could tell he was processing my comment.  Then he ate a couple more fish.  I laughed and we continued on our way.  A few minutes later Quentin held out his bag of fish.  With a look of concern he said “Here Mom.  You better take these.”  I thought he was full, or had reached his limit of sugar, so I gladly took them from him to hold for later.

Silence.  Silence.  Silence.

“Mommmm.  Ummm, I don’t want to turn into a fish,” Quentin whispered.  “Oh!  Honey, you won’t really turn into a fish” I said trying to comfort him instantly.  I was unaware he was still even thinking about the subject.  “But you even told that to me before Mom, last time we had the fish.”  I laughed out loud.  “I did?”  He nodded with certainty.  Of course after my internal chuckle, I made sure he understood I was only teasing.  I had added onto the tradition.  After a few comforting words, Quentin responded with “Well then, I’ll please take my fish back.”

It appears we have quite the tradition in the works….


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