(no subject) @ 07:23 pm
|You Are Peeps|
You're the type that's more likely to play with your food than actually eat it.
There is a legend among the Holton boys of the year that the three of us were sitting in the living room, in our underwear, picking through our Easter baskets (no, this was not anytime in the last decade). As was usually the case, we were seated in three different corners of the room. Kip decided that he didn't like Peeps. I told him to toss one over to me, and he did, and I caught it and in one motion stuffed it in my mouth. From that point on, Easter was always about throwing Peeps at John and seeing if he could catch them and toss them in his mouth. Of course, I still can.
Although I'm no longer allowed to eat them, nevertheless these are my favorites at Easter, and since the Peep people (the Peeple?) now make them in a variety of shapes and sizes for different holidays. My favorites are still the little chickens. I especially like them after they've sat out for a couple of days uncovered. I like the extra crunch.