I apparently killed my son’s appetite for cotton candy. Not long ago we went to a ballgame, and I decided to commemorate the event with a purchase of cotton candy. The cotton candy was red and yellow intertwined with yumminess.
Not wanting to witness my own personal version of the Hunger Games I decided to buy cotton candy for both the boy and the girl. My daughter didn’t hesitate; the bag was open and cotton candy was being consumed at a rate that I did not think was humanly possible.
My son, on the other hand, hesitated. He stopped and looked at the cotton candy and studied it for a bit. He seemed confused. Was he concerned? He touched it in the same manner one would poke an unknown insect to see if it was alive.
My daughter sensed his consternation and paused her annihilation of her pillow of sugar to assist her brother. She pinched a little piece off of his cotton candy roll and offered it to him. And he began to throw a fit thinking that she was trying to steal his prize.
I consoled him and praised the girl for her attempt to help her brother. She was unfazed and continues depositing puffs of spun sugar into her mouth.
I decided to model the consumption of cotton candy for my son. I thought he would find it humorous that the candy melts on your tongue. His reaction was not one I was prepared for.
As I opened my mouth wide, and held it as such, so my son could see the cherry flavored sugar disintegrate on my tongue, he began to cry. In horror.
“NO, DADDY!”
I thought he was upset about me eating his cotton candy. I was wrong.
He was short of breath and then was finally able to exhale the following guttural response:
“YOU ATE BLOOD, Daddy. YOU ATE THE BLOOD!”
I guess I never realized that melted cherry cotton candy might resemble blood. And thus a staple of childhood consumption was destroyed. And I’m not sure, but it is possible that those around us thought I was a vampire.
Oh well. Sun’s coming up. I gotta run. That’s it for now. Captain…out!