Feeding Nine

Huts Put

“Give them what they don’t like,” I said when a friend asked how on earth I could feed nine growing children in any economy. 

“What d’you feed them; locusts and wild honey?”

“You know, pablum for breakfast, peanut butter banana sandwiches for lunch . . .healthy stuff; correction, healthful; potatoes, vegetables, salads.”

“You never had any treats,” she looked confused, “for school lunches, I mean?”

Even I had to provide some goodies. Moms monitor each other like the secret police. God forbid that the kids should be looked down upon by friends.“Sure I bought some. Everything from pudding snacks to applesauce, not that tasteless natural stuff they give now. My kids got the Motts original, sugar added.”

“Did you hide the treats under your bed? Surely the kids would have found them when you weren’t looking.”

“I did better than that. I put a lock on the pantry door.”

“And that worked?”

“I thought so, but now that they’ve grown up, they tell their little secrets.”

“Didn’t you notice they broke the lock?”

“'Course not. They didn’t really break it. They knew how to use credit cards.”

She laughed out loud. “Don’t tell me you were rich enough to own credit cards?”

I couldn’t help but smile, “The couple I had were life savers during the holidays, but I stashed them in my bathroom drawer, way in the back where nobody could find them.”

“And that didn’t work.”

“Lot’s of things didn’t work, like the home sewn clothes I made, the furniture I antiqued, the second hand toys I refurbished,” I said.

“So that’s how you managed your budget!” she tossed her head back and laughed again.

 “Somehow Huts Put, that hearty dutch invention of potatoes, carrots and ham lives in their memories,” I added.

“They loved it, huh?”

“Yeah, right.”