Adventures with Lobsters and Fire

Call me heartless, but inspite of David Foster Wallace’s call to end boiling lobsters alive, this native New Englander is still a fan.

We’ve been busy–my mother’s in town for the week. The bots have been counting down the “sleeps” until Nanny arrived and now that she’s here, we’ve been going nonstop.

One of the highlights for the bots during his last June visit was a trip across town to the Chinese Cultural Center, which features an enormous Asian grocery called, for reasons I have not yet ascertained, 99 Ranch. Last year, with the bots 2 11/12 and 1 3/4, everything in every aisle was a marvel, especially the produce department with vegetables of every conceivable texture, shape, and shade of green, the swordlike lemongrass, carrots the size of a half-bottle of wine, watermelon-sized jack fruit resembling scared pufferfish, and especially the real fish–about thirty different varieties on ice and six great tanks filled with live tilapia, catfish, Dungeness crab, and our main objective: the Maine lobsters, $10.99/pound.

Behind the counter, four men in rubber boots and aprons stand on high stools to dip fish from the tanks and take silver-bladed cleavers and giant yellow rubber mallets to chop each fish in one of six ways, illustrated on a board hanging above the counter. Last year, we had to pull the bots away. I myself could watch for hours without getting bored, in spite of the pungent low-tide smell.

Well. This year, with a 3 11/12 year-old and a 2 3/4 year-old, was an entirely new experience. In the produce department, everyone was cold and wanted to be held. They are both too big for Nanny to carry, and too big for me to carry both. We took turns. The bot in the cart complained of being cold and not being held. As we neared the fish counter, wailing about the smell began. It didn’t bother Gbot, but Mbot, who is notoriously sensitive to smell and has remained largely resistent to my attempts to introduce him to foods other than cereal, peanut-butter, hamburgers, chocolate, ice cream, and broccoli, refused to be diverted for more than a minute at a time by the tilapia, the catfish, the crabs, or the lobsters. A hole was poked in the lobster bag and Nanny went back for another.

It was among the least pleasant grocery shopping trips of the year, mostly due to dashed expectations.

In the past six months, I’ve rarely been taken so totally by surprise by the bots’ response to an experience. I realize this trip was a preview of teendom, when nothing that is my idea will prove to be anything other than boring, too smelly, or too cold. But we got the lobsters, we got the Tsing Tao, and we escaped without setting fire to anything. Which is more than I can say for that evening, when Mbot found out what happens when you hold a paper Spiderman napkin over a candle.

But that’s a story for another day.

 

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6 thoughts on “Adventures with Lobsters and Fire

  1. I’m in Portland with the 3 1/2 year old granddaughter, and much the same experience. What worked a few months ago in a visit, isn’t this time. At least being Granny, I get to just roll with it. Mom and Dad will be home in a few days and they get the fallout… Syd

    • So do I…but yesterday was not the day. Come to think of it: cut in half, it would be handy to tamp out Spiderman napkin-sized fires in the kitchen with. So in retrospect, maybe yesterday WAS the day.

    • Too funny–Very often, at dinnertime, I remember like it was yesterday your mom telling me how your family had gone out for Chinese and The Original Mbot had only eaten white rice! Makes me feel better–as I guess TOM turned out alright!

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