The Peanut Butter War

Once, while I was visiting a senior care facility at lunchtime, an elderly resident asked the nurse if he could have some peanut butter.  I don't remember what food item he wanted it for but I remember that the request didn't sound too far-fetched to me.  Remember, this comment is coming from a woman who, as a child, enjoyed peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.

The nurse, instead of fulfilling his request, explained that he was given peanut butter every morning for his toast (seems the gentleman liked peanut butter) but his lunch request was not, in her opinion, the correct way to eat peanut butter.  The resident suddenly looked like a child who had just been scolded.

My heart went out to the resident who had, as most residents, reached that time of life when most of what is familiar to them is taken away and they live a very confined life.  Must the peanut butter go too because of the taste preference of a nurse?

Which led me to think about my son-in-law.  I recently found out that he's not perfect.  Oh yes, he is  polite, non-judgmental, an incredible husband and dad and all that kind of stuff.  But I recently found out that he does not like cats, and "not like" is probably not strong enough language to describe his feelings toward cats.  Raised on a farm where animals were considered animals and not pets, he just has no warm and fuzzies whenever he sees an animal defined as a pet.  So it struck me as rather odd that one of his daughters has a pet cat.

One day, when I was visiting, I checked in with my granddaughter on that subject.  "Your dad really does not like cats at all?" I asked her.  She confirmed the fact.  "But you have a cat!  Why did he let you have a cat?"

She looked at me with a look of sweet tolerance for someone who had just asked an extremely stupid question.  "Because he loves me," she said very matter-of-fact.   At that moment my son-in-law nudged himself closer to the perfect category.  Now about that peanut butter.