The jellybean jar
The myriad number of ways my life has changed since I welcomed a child into my life is mind-boggling. Sometimes it's not good or bad, but it's just eye-rolllingly ridiculous.
Olivia had jellybeans in a jar. I am not a jellybean person, but it's all we had left in the house and I had a mean sweets craving.
I know I take my chances when I eat anything she's taken responsibility for. It could have been dropped in the yard first, generously sniffed by the dog, handed by very dirty hands, or most likely, left exposed for longer than it should have been.
I peered at the jellybeans as if my naked eye would actually discern bad bacteria. They looked OK, they smelled OK, so I tenuously bit one. It was tasty, so I ate another, then another, then another.
I probably had a whole fistful of jellybeans by the time I hit the bottom of the jar. And you know what I saw? Oval shaped, small brown crumbs rolling around on the bottom. About a dozen.
Panicky thought process:
Is it... roach poop? Did she leave this uncapped overnight? Think, think... in my Swiss cheese brain, do I remember seeing it opened at night on the counter? How much does one cockroach poop, anyway?
No, it's sprinkles. She likes to put sprinkles in everything. Yeah, it's cake decorating chocolate jimmies. Whew.
No, it's not sprinkles. I don't own brown sprinkles.
Wait, there's one chocolate chip in there. She likes to mix her candies. It's probably just pieces of chocolate. Yes. You didn't just eat jellybeans marinating in cockroach poo.
No, it doesn't seem likely that it's chocolate chip flakes. How would chocolate chips flake into all perfectly similar oval loaf shapes?
What was that crash? Oh, just the sound of my heart sinking as I realize I just ate turd-dusted jellybeans. Oh my God. I feel disgusting.
I couldn't even bring myself to look in the jar again. I wasn't even sure I wanted to ask my husband for a second opinion. I just wanted to forget this ever happened (after telling the world about it first, because I need your sympathy to get through this dark time.)
That night, I had a dinner party at my house and I told my friends what happened; showed them the jar in hopes of being told it was not poop. They all, unfortunately, thought it was.
My husband said, "There's only one way to know for sure," he laughed. "Eat one and see if it tastes like chocolate. If it doesn't, it's poop."
Darin said, "It's not going to kill you. If you've eaten a hot dog, you've probably already eaten rat doo doo."
Maile said, "If it's the cockroaches in your own house, it's cleaner than the cockroaches from outside. At least the ones living with you are only crawling on your own stuff."
Paul suggested I float this as a new flavor idea to Jelly Belly, the company that has a line of gross flavors it calls BeanBoozled. I searched it and see it does not appear to have Roach Dung as an offering. I could make money off my pain?
Everyone had a laugh at my expense.
I'll just dump the jar and pretend this never happened, thank you.