“Mother, what are we having for dinner?”
“Sausage and some vegetable I have not yet determined plus fruit cocktail.”
“What about starch?”
“What about starch?”
“There has to be a starch or Daddy is going to be all . . . Kris, this is not a complete meal. Where’s the starch? And then later this evening, he’ll eat a huge bowl of potato chips to balance out his incomplete dinner.”
“This is true. Could your daddy be any more Midwestern and Michiganny, you think?”
Maj burrows in the freezer, looking for options, pulling out a bag, “So how about French fries?”
“Sweetie, there are only a few French fries in that bag, not enough for everyone.”
She hugs the bag to her chest, “OK, how about I make these French fries for me and the rest of you can just enjoy vicarious starch?”
“How about not?”
“Hmmph.”
“We could make mashed potatoes.”
“Can I make them? I know how to make mashed potatoes.”
“Alright, but Maj? I want to be able to go in the other room while you make mashed potatoes and not hear screaming.”
“Mother, I can see no reason why there should be screaming.”
“OK, but seriously . . . If you’re doing it, do it. I’m not involved.”
“Mother, you are making me suspicious. It’s like you know there is something more to this task than I imagine, and you are excusing yourself in advance from any motherly responsibilities when those problems arise.”
“Let’s just say I know you a little bit.”
“Way to crush my cheffiness, Mother. STOP MASHING MY DREAMS!”
“Whatever. The potatoes are on the counter over there.”
“You are kidding me, right? Oh, this is not starting out well at all.”
“I am walking away.”
“You are not supposed to store potatoes on the counter! They sprout poison. Sunlight causes potatoes to make poison!”
“LALALALALALALA!”
“Let me just take a look at them.”
“Stop talking to me.”
“THEY ARE SPROUTED! SPROUTS ARE POISON! YOU KNOW HOW I HATE TO EAT POISON THINGS!”
“Just cut the sprouts off, Maj.”
“THAT IS NOT THE RECOMMENDED PROCEDURE FOR DEALING WITH SPUDS OF DEATH, MOTHER! I WILL NEED TO THROW ALL OF THESE POTATOES AWAY.”
“Don’t you dare. Just cut the sprouts off and they’ll be fine.”
“MOTHER, YOU ARE DIRECTING ME TO POISON THIS FAMILY.”
“Maj, cut off the sprouts and move along.”
“AIIEIEIEEEEE! PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME BE A HOMICIDER!”
“The sprouts are not poison, Maj. Just cut them off.”
Kallan looks up from her book, “Actually, Mom? The sprouts are poison. I forgot the name of the poison, but we learned it in school. They said the poison was related to nightshade.”
“MOTHER, HOW CAN YOU BE A MOTHER AND NOT KNOW ABOUT NIGHTSHADE?”
I sigh, “Seriously, Kallan? Don’t encourage her.”
Kallan shakes her head, “Look it up, Mom. Seriously.”
“MOTHER, THERE IS A LITTLE BIT OF GREEN ON THIS POTATO. IS THAT OK?”
“Yes, Maj. It’s fine.”
“AUGH! DON’T LIE! THAT WAS A TEST, MOTHER. THE GREEN IS POISON! EVERYONE KNOWS THE GREEN IS POISON!”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Kallan clears her throat, “Umm, Mom? The green is actually poisonous.”
“I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN A FAIRYTALE. A MOMENT AGO, I WAS CINDERELLA ALL INNOCENT AND NAÏVE AND MAKING MASHED POTATOES AND SUDDENLY THE PLANS OF MY EVIL STEPMOTHER ARE REVEALED TO ME. IF I WAS IN A FAIRYTALE, THESE POTATOES WOULD COME TO LIFE AND GIVE ME THE EYES OF FORETOLD DOOM.”
I sigh, “The potato eyes of foretold doom?”
“PLEASE, WOMAN WHO DID NOT BIRTH ME BUT WHO STILL MAY HAVE SOME MERCY IN HER SOUL . . . PLEASE . . . I WANT TO LIVE!”
Kallan giggles, “Look it up on Wikipedia, Mom. Green potatoes are poisonous.”
I raise my voice, “Maj, I have eaten potatoes with sprouts and green in the past and have not been harmed in any way. Cut off the parts with which you have a problem and toss the rest in some boiling water. If there’s any poison, I’m sure the boiling water will kill it off.”
Kallan shakes her head, “Nope. 212 degrees Fahrenheit is not high enough to neutralize the poison.”
I stare at Kallan, “Would you stop it?”
“Look it up. I know stuff, Mom.”
“WAAAAAAHHHHH! I LIVE IN A WORLD IN WHICH MY YOUNGER SISTER KNOWS MORE THAN MY MOTHER ABOUT HOW TO KEEP ME SAFE. I AM DOOMED!”
“Maj, you are never cooking anything again.”
“DUH, BECAUSE TODAY IS THE DAY I DIE, MOTHER. LIMITED COOKING OPPORTUNITIES AFTER NIGHTSHADED DEATH, MOTHER.”
“If you could kill children with green potatoes, I am sure I would have read about this.”
“WHAT? ARE YOU SAYING YOU HAVE BEEN DOING READING ABOUT THE BEST WAYS TO KILL CHILDREN?”
“Yes, Maj. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“AIIIAIIEEIEEEEE! THE MAJ LIVES IN FEAR! ALSO, THE POTATOES ARE IN THE WATER IN A PAN. DO I NEED TO TURN THE BURNER ON?”
“Your call, Maj. I can see it working out just fine either way.”
“NOT EVERY QUESTION IS A CALL TO SARCASM, MOTHER!”
“Why are you screaming everything?”
“THIS IS NOT SCREAMING! THIS IS MAJVERSATIONAL!”
“Ugh.”
Maj stomps into the room and throws herself down on the couch. She grabs her laptop and tappity-taps for a few seconds and then reads to me . . . Reads to me all about solanine, a nerve toxin potatoes create as they are exposed to sunlight. Reads to me about how solanine is similar to the poison in nightshade and serves as the potato’s natural defense against insects and predators. Reads to me about how potatoes with sprouts or green spots should be thrown away rather than eaten, especially by small children. When she is finished reading, she glares at me, “Wikipedia and the Maj are extremely disappointed in you, Mother.”
I did not know any of this information, and so I say, “Huh.”
“That’s all you have to say, Mother?”
Kallan raises a hand, “I would just like to interrupt to say,” and she stands to throw a victorious fist in the air, “I told you so, Mom! Oh yeah . . . Kallan knows stuff!”
Maj closes her laptop, “So what are we having for dinner?”
“What? I told you . . . Sausage and green beans and fruit cocktail and mashed potatoes.”
“So you’re just going to throw us under the nightshade bus?”
“You’ll only get a little mashed.”
Kallan snorts, “Good one, Mom.”
Maj hurls herself backward into the couch, wailing dramatically, “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! MIGHT AS WELL SAY OUR GOODBYES NOW.”
Kallan glances at her sister and then her face crumples into drunken and overwrought, “I love you, man! I just . . . I just . . . I love you, man!” With a tearful sob, she hurls herself onto Maj and bear-hugs her sister into submission, “I love you, man!”
Maj squirms and protests and shrieks for my assistance “DO SOMETHING, MOTHER! THE YOUNG ONE HAS GONE MAD! THE YOUNG ONE IS EMBRACING ME WITHOUT RESTRAINT. SHE’S GONE MENTAL! THE VERY LIFE IS BEING SQUEEZED FROM THE MAJ! SAVE ME!”
“Hmmm . . . so either way, you are going to die by mash?”
Maj is now wearing Kallan like a giant boa-constrictor belt, and she tries to shove Kallan down over her hips and legs as she speaks, “MOTHER, IF YOU ARE GOING TO SAY THINGS RIGHT BEFORE I DIE, COULD YOU AT LEAST MAKE SENSE?”
“Well, Maj. You can either die by sister-mashing or die by mash of potatoes. Your call. I can see it working out just fine either way.”
Maj finally wrestles herself free of Kallan’s drunken wailing I-love-you-man grip, “AS I SAID BEFORE, MOTHER . . . NOT EVERY QUESTION IS A CALL TO SARCASM.”
Kallan sinks back into the couch calmly and picks up her book again, “Or is it? It’s all in the ear of the beholder, Maj.”
I giggle, “Yes, what she said.”
“A CURSE UPON YOU ALL! A NIGHTSHADED CURSE UPON YOU ALL!”
“Hey, Maj?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Don’t forget to add butter. I like my solanine buttered.”
“Really, Mother? You have so little faith in the Maj? You’re not the only one who reads. I know how to flavor poison.”
Wait . . .what?
