If you have a mom, then you know what “the look” is. My mom only ever had to do it once for my sister and I to figure out that we ought to knock off what we were doing, lest “the look” become “the look + our full name,” and that was never a good thing. Fortunately, and I think our mom would agree, my sister and I were not bad kids. We did the typical kid things like roughhoused, played loud, broke a few things (like my sister’s collarbone, but no matter how hard she tries to pin it on me, she should have stopped moving around like I told her to), and generally acted naughty a time or two, but other than that, we weren’t troublemakers. The funny thing is, I’m 35 and she’ll be 30 in December, but our mom can still level us with “the look” if she thinks we’re acting stupid. It must be a mom thing.
Look below the cut for yesterday’s prompt, which I forgot to do, being the dunderhead that I am.
I love spicy food. I definitely get it from my dad, because my mom cannot handle heat of any kind (spicy heat, not temperature heat), which is funny because my grandfather had an iron stomach. There was a market in St. Anne, Illinois, not far from where my mom grew up, that had something called Metropolitan sausage, which apparently was hot enough to melt steel. My grandfather loved that stuff, but my mom, uncle, and grandmother couldn’t stand it. My dad ate it a time or two, back when my grandfather was still alive, and he loved it as well. I wish I could have tried it, because again, I love spicy food. I don’t get indigestion or any other kind of intestinal upset because of it, though there is a limit. I love spicy food, but I don’t like spicy for the sake of it. Meaning, if it’s so hot my mouth is numb and I can’t taste anything else, that’s too hot. You’re just doing that for the attention, not to make the dish taste good. That I don’t like.