the simple joys of peanut butter and jam
Oh PB and J, how you are adored in this household. I just spent 3 minutes crafting the world’s easiest sandwich for my little boy while suggesting possible alternatives for him… it turns out that he is not interested in pb and tomato, pb and pickles, pb and water, or pb and anything else. With the possible exception of banana, of course, because like his dad, he realizes how awesome that is.
It’s great to be able to cause happiness with 20 cents of bread, peanut butter and grape jam. (American grape jam is much more like jelly than it is jam, but I digress.) I’m not often happy about simple things. PB&J doesn’t make me smile the way it makes my boy smile. Neither does loading the dishwasher.
Maybe I’m missing something? I’ve gotta go help a little boy load the dishwasher.
It might be genetic. I have reached generous proportions by grazing over a very wide range of food offerings and still today PBandJ are very near the top of my favourites list.
Colin and I had the exact conversation the other day. I broke down and had a pb and pickle, so good. He went with the classic. I’ll have to read him a bit of this post.
PB and pickle? Hmm. I wonder if it’s anywhere as good as PB and bacon, my personal favourite.
You guys are totally grossing me out! Yuck!