Why I Love Hot Sauce:
Just a Theory
Here's my theory of why I love hot sauce:
There are as many methods of discipline as there are parents in the world. When we were little, if my brothers and I talked back to our parents or said something we shouldn't have, we knew we were going to get it. Dad (or Mom) would go into the kitchen and get the dreaded Tabasco sauce, put a drop on their finger, and put their finger in our mouth. Mean, right? It would be a while before we'd forget about the searing heat on our tongues and would talk back again.
But then, I had an awful idea. Little Todd— clever, little Todd had a wonderful, awful idea. One day, when no one was around, I climbed up on the counter and grabbed the Tabasco. I put a tiny bit on my finger and touched it to my tongue. My eyes watered, but it wasn't so bad doing it to myself. I did it again. And again. And again, until I kind of started to like the flavor and the heat. I built up a tolerance to my parents favorite method of discipline.*
And that's why I think I love hot sauce.
*Had I been really clever, I would have faked that I was still affected by the Tabasco method. Unfortunately, I was too proud of my tactic to not let them know their punishment was no longer threatening, and they switched to soap, which tastes much worse than Tabasco.
Go to the board!
There are as many methods of discipline as there are parents in the world. When we were little, if my brothers and I talked back to our parents or said something we shouldn't have, we knew we were going to get it. Dad (or Mom) would go into the kitchen and get the dreaded Tabasco sauce, put a drop on their finger, and put their finger in our mouth. Mean, right? It would be a while before we'd forget about the searing heat on our tongues and would talk back again.
But then, I had an awful idea. Little Todd— clever, little Todd had a wonderful, awful idea. One day, when no one was around, I climbed up on the counter and grabbed the Tabasco. I put a tiny bit on my finger and touched it to my tongue. My eyes watered, but it wasn't so bad doing it to myself. I did it again. And again. And again, until I kind of started to like the flavor and the heat. I built up a tolerance to my parents favorite method of discipline.*
And that's why I think I love hot sauce.
*Had I been really clever, I would have faked that I was still affected by the Tabasco method. Unfortunately, I was too proud of my tactic to not let them know their punishment was no longer threatening, and they switched to soap, which tastes much worse than Tabasco.
Go to the board!
Hahaha :)this made me smile..and want to use the tabasco method on Logan.
ReplyDeleteI agree. Soap is much more disgusting and I believe more humiliating. My mom and dad made me hold it in my mouth over the sink for what seemed like twenty minutes in my seven year old mind. Yuck! :) Ah, the memories. Thanks for the time warp.
ReplyDeleteAwesome. I too love hotsauce but for different reasons all together.
ReplyDelete