Does this starfish look not-so-pointy? Yes. This story has just been begging to be blogged about, but I am behind in blogging (and life in general), so here I give you a copied and pasted account of The Starfish Drama at Our House from letters I wrote to our missionary brothers. . . .
"We went to the Bean Museum for fun, and it was fun. When we were ready to go, I let both of the kids pick out a sea shell from the gift shop--I thought that was very educational of me. Max picked a starfish and he held it in his little hands all the way home. Anna asked me on the drive if it was a real starfish and I said yes. "Is it alive?" No, I told her. "So it's dead?" Well, yes. She spent the rest of the drive home dealing with the fact that Max was holding a "real dead starfish". Later on, I went downstairs and found Max chewing something. I asked him what in the world he was eating.
"Um , me eat my starfish"
Get ready for this . . . He was eating his real dead starfish. He was chewing and swallowing his real dead starfish. He held up his real, dead, not-so-pointy starfish for me to see. I took it away, not sure if i should call poison control or google "I ate a starfish". And the unexpected part was that Max cried and cried and told me--"Me love to eat my starfish" I did not taste it myself, but apparently it was not so bad. He was beside himself for several hours, and we are still hearing the sad, sad story about how mommy took Max's starfish away and he loved it and he couldn't eat it. He's told on me to several people. . .grandma . .dad. . . in hopes of someone siding with him and his starfish that I am a mean mommy."
So there you have it . . . Max likes eating starfish. I'm sure they're salty. I'm sure they're crunchy. I'm sure someday it will be fun to tell Max this story of him as a crazy two-year old, but for now, oh yuck.
