Saturday, March 28, 2009
The girls and I ate a big heap of crawfish this afternoon. We had gone to the park, and somebody was boiling crawfish, and it smelled so good, I couldn't go home without stopping to buy a bagful first. And for the first time, Louise (mostly) peeled her own—a momentous occasion.* (I say "mostly". As a devoted crawfish lover, it was slightly painful watching her mangle some of the glorious morsels, but we must allow our little birdies to awkwardly flutter if they are ever to fly on their own.)
She is on the cusp, shall we say, of craw-dulthood, the juncture in life when she ceases to be dependent on the craw-peelings of others (much to the relief of the beleagured parents) and blazes her own way in the great Craw-World, amassing her own heap of gleefully shucked shells without the intervention of others.
The entrance into craw-dulthood should be celebrated, perhaps, with a Craw Mitzvah?
* And she even peeled some for June. (June still has a ways to go before she achieves craw-tonomy. But she has started sucking the crawfish heads.)