Appeasing Larry

I hope my Pea doesn't piss off lactose.

When I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8, my doctor told me to lay-off the chocolate milk.  I had been embroiled in this incredible love affair with the tasty juice of the brown cow, which culminated in me drinking an entire 1 litre jug of chocolate milk in 30 seconds on the way home from a hockey game.  This binge drinking triggered every single one of the symptoms listed in the Pepto Bismol commercials (in the back seat of someone else's car, no less). 

The doctor backed-up my parents suspicions, and I was ordered to cut ties with lactose to the best of my abilities.  It didn't need to be a clean break, but the less the better.  

Now reserved for Friday nights (when I have the weekend to recover) are:

• Fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, the kind that starts off looking questionable but turns into a creamy pile of goodness once you give it a little swirl of the spoon
• Cheese of all kinds
• Mint chocolate chip ice cream cake, the kind from Baskin Robins with the fudge border
• Joe Dirt, the incredibly heartwarming rags-to-riches tale of a lonesome janitor starring David Spade... no... wait... that's for tomorrow's entry, the top 10 movies I hope Pea won't overlook because of poor public opinion.

The point is, Pea deserves the chance to make nice with lactose.  Dairy is an important part of her gastronomical development, and I will be doing my best to appease Larry, the God of Lactose so that she might have a fighting chance at a second helping of ice cream birthday cake.  Her odds are slim, with my wife having the same lactose-related issues as me, but for the love of Larry, I hope poor stomach lining skips a generation.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't piss off lactose.