At David’s parents (Sheldon and Leah’s, to the uninitiated) place for a holiday get-together today, many laughs were had. The youngest niece insisted on having only peanut butter and jelly in a hot dog bun – no other bread product would suffice, no other filling was acceptable. Her objection to the regular peoples’ menu was final and non-negotiable, so the substitution was made “on the fly” with the ingredients brought to the table and assembled in her watchful eye. The rest of us made do with turkey, cranberries, pickled herring, kugel, and gefilte fish – the all-purpose, all-American holiday meal on this side of the family.

Anyway, so the youngest nibbles at one end just a tiny bit, but really she’d filled up on snacks earlier (she’s a very picky eater, except when it’s a snack food or a sweet). Then Melissa, the oldest niece, picked up the Welch’s jelly jar that had been brought with the peanut butter jar to the table and said “Grandma, how come it says EXPIRES IN JULY 1997??” I have to say she’s really blossomed in her special ed class… she’s got the damndest eye for odd detail, too. And a really loud voice, so everyone heard her.

Confoundment. Bedlam. Hilarity. All three ensued. All Leah could say in her defense was that she never had peanut butter and jelly herself – she only had it for when the kids were around. Then Melissa looked at the peanut butter jar – yes, it had expired in April of this year. Raucous laughter and outraged shouts of “Leahhhhh!” from Shel in his highest squeak (for some reason his voice breaks in the cutest way when he’s pretending to be upset).

“Only the best for my grandchildren,” I wise-cracked in my best Leah impression. “We sell no grape jelly before its’ time” and “1997 – a very fine vintage” said (I think) David and Mitch (OWTTE). After many more, even funnier comments, the best of which noted that Naomi was actually 1 year younger than the jelly she’d been eating, Leah quietly picked up the jars and walked casually to the kitchen, obviously pretending no one would notice them behind her back. There was much hooting and finger-pointing. I was crying, I laughed so hard, and then I threw my head back at something Mitch or his dad said and cracked my head on the edge of the counter behind me. Then I was crying for real, but only for a little while.

We started clearing off the table for dessert (my birthday was Friday, and there was a cake – very fresh, we were coached to say) but almost everyone made a beeline for the fridge and the pantry cupboard. There they were, all 3 grown sons and one grandson and one granddaughter, all going through the foodstuffs hoping to discover some more past-pulldate comedy gold. Leah looked a little concerned but she professed masterful indifference.

There were more jokes about the cake, partly because the kids knew that it had been picked up yesterday and not today, and also that the frosting was messed up on one side and they were trying to keep me from seeing it. It actually tasted pretty good, but when I was cutting it I could see that it was really, really smooshed on the one side. I guess there was some story about a transportation disaster that I never heard.

Then we amused ourselves making up “Favorite Desserts” jokes – Leah started it off:

• Lawyers (Leah, but Gloria is a 2nd year law student): Tortes
• Prostitutes (also a joke of Leah’s!):Tarts
• Mathematicians (me): Pie

The 2 older kids looked pretty bewildered at the “tarts” one, so I guess she got that one joke in under the radar. Not next year, though.