Chunk.

Maymo is going through a stage that I remember vividly from my own childhood: Mixing Foods Together To Make Yummy New Foods That Are Actually Disgusting.

He’s been playing amateur bartender lately, with his pop, which I’ve been happy to let him do providing he heeds the warning of, “You mix it, you drink it.” I figure that’s a life skill, y’know?

My tolerance for this new hobby stems from my own childhood. I recall a phase where I applied a liberal coating of BBQ sauce to everything and anything I could – from fruit to cottage cheese to toast to pasta to, yes, ice cream. And I remember my parents being grossed-out by this but, at the same time, they did pick me up bottles of the stuff on every grocery trip. My paternal-grandmother even gave me some for Christmas.

(You have NO idea how giddy I was to open up a box containing four or five bottles of BBQ sauce. It was one of those “BEST PRESENTS EVER, BOBCI!!” moments.)

But Maymo is not content to add a topping to his food. No sirree. His thing is to mix milk with pop and drink it – even as it curdles and turns into chunks and gets stuck in the straw.

Uh huh. *shudder*

As we ate dinner on Friday, he poured a glass of lemon-lime pop for himself, added in a very large quantity of milk, and everyone at the table watched in complete gagging horror as the entire thing turned into a large chunk of clotted-up milk with a dribble of liquid on top.

We all covered our mouths as he slurped the big chunks up the (clear, see-through) straw. It looked like he had dropped a couple of large, puffy marshmallows into his drink – they just bobbed around in there, all chunky-curdly.

When he drained the glass completely, leaving just a few little clots on the sides, he announced that it was “Really good!” and not one of us could look him in the eyes because, seriously? Ew. Just… ew.