I stopped scrambling the eggs, not quite sure I heard what he said. “What?” I asked, furrowing my brow. Probably for the 10th time that morning.
Jakob stood by the wide open refrigerator door, shaking a carton of orange juice. That probably didn’t have a lid on it. He likes to tempt fate that way. “Does this juice have plumpers in it?”
I know, right? Plump? Plumpers?!?!? I looked at the other kids sitting around the kitchen table, wondering if they caught it, too. “Yes, dad.” Natalia piped up, as if reading my mind. “He said plumpers.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed hard. I laughed hard and for a long time.
“Jake…it’s called ‘pulp’. Not ‘plump’ or ‘plumpers’.”
“Whatever.” He shrugged, shaking his head.
“We should totally start calling it that, though.” Natalia said, still laughing.
“For real, dad.” Sarah agreed, giggling.
Jake sighed heavily, clearly not amused. “Can you just tell me if it has plumps in it or not?” Leave it to Jakob, to stick with something, right or wrong. Besides being from another planet, the kids’ not stubborn. At all.
“No, Jake. The orange juice doesn’t have any ‘pulp’ in it”. Emphasis on “pulp”, fyi.
“Then why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?” He replied, finally closing the fridge door. “Geez! It was a simple question!”
“I don’t know, Jake.” I replied, turning back to the eggs. “I don’t know.”
The kid can read, btw. He could’ve easily just looked at the carton for himself.
And…for those needing closure…no. The juice didn’t have pulp, plumps or plumpers in it. That shit’s disgusting. Who wants to drink that? All that stuff gets stuck in your teeth worse than popcorn kernels.
Images courtesy of:
Fridge door: https://www.flickr.com/photos/erinlanigan/