Hope’s best friend’s dad took the girls out to check his crab pots today. Of course I instantly told her to offer the Dad goat cheese for a couple of crabs. She rolled her eyes a little and said she would.
Then she started texting me photos. Photos of a giant cauldron of crabs boiling in seawater.
“Mom we got SO many crabs! And we’re going back out!”
“Don’t forget!” I wrote. “Goat cheese! Or ham! Or maybe some grass fed beef?”
More photos. More crabs. Big crabs! Hope learned to clean a crab. Hope sent pictures of herself eating big handfuls of snowy white crab, but no word on whether or not she was bringing any home.
“My right arm? My firstborn child?” I texted. And then “you’re killing me, smalls!”
When she finally came home, she shook her head.
“Sorry mom, they didn’t want to part with any crabs.”
“Really?!” I was surprised, but not THAT surprised. I mean, no matter how many dungeoness crabs I had, I’d still find it difficult to give them away. Maybe they were for a big event. Lots of people have crab parties on the beach this time of year.
“Bummer!” I said. “I was really hoping....”
“Sorry mom, But I could only ask him once, you know” she said, a little witheringly.
“I know, I know. It’s fine,” I answered, but not really feeling fine. Dungeoness crab is the absolutely best seafood on earth. Fight me.
Then the door opened and her best friend came galloping in holding an ice chest and both girls dissolved into giggles.
“Gotcha, mom!” Hope teased me. “How could he NOT give you crabs? I showed him our text thread. You were THIRSTY for crabs.”
Four big crabs, already cooked and cleaned. I didn’t even have a chance to give him anything in return. Hope’s friend is spending the night, so I can send her home with something.
Not my right arm, though. I need that to hold the nutcracker.
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