peanuts

I love when doing any innocuous thing stirs up some memory from my childhood.

Had peanuts for the first time in a long time, and as I was cracking one open, I remember that when I was a kid, I would wait for someone (maybe my mom, maybe my nanny) to keep opening more for me, and wondered why they were so slow about it.

I remember my grandpa had those plastic bottles of Planters peanuts in his room on top of a safe. I always felt like I wasn’t supposed to go into my grandparents’ room, so I would sneak in sometimes during the day (I can’t even recall how old I was, but clearly young enough that I wasn’t in school yet) and steal peanuts from him like a mouse before going back to my room. (I find significant humor in this as an adult because those repeated experience that took all of two minutes felt like this big adventure to little me.)