We recently spent the week with Grammy (Boppy), but I still can't figure out how Breanna got this. Yes, Grammy hates onions with every fiber of her being, but the topic didn't really come up a whole lot at her house.
But nevertheless, the other day we had spaghetti, and I always add chopped onion and some other stuff to the storebought sauce. Breanna pulled out a tiny piece of onion and held it out to me ever so carefully on the tip of her finger. I said, "That's an onion. Yummy." She looked at me seriously and said, "Trash." I said, "No, that's an onion." She once again said, "Trash," and forced me to remove it from her sight.
Guess maybe some weird stuff is hereditary, but skips a generation! Fabulous!! (Can you hear the sarcasm dripping off that word?)
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