Vinegar Lips

I love salt and vinegar potato chips. I also love sports. One day the twain did meet, though not necessarily in the best way.

My oldest son was about two and a half years old, and I was trying to watch the Stanley Cup playoffs. Being a momentarily bad dad, I did not want a distraction. So I sat in my recliner eating salt and vinegar potato chips as I was also supposed to be watching Charlie.

I did watch him, kind of. I glanced over occasionally as he played with his toys while I watched TV. Regularly, he would toddle to my perch, and I would give him a couple chips or let him grab some from the bag I held on my lap, to keep him at bay. It was a divine match. We both got what we wanted; he could play, and I could watch hockey. Cool beans.

After an hour or so of this, Charlie, again, toddled to my recliner for more chips. And I gave him more. Only this time I turned and looked at him. His lips were white. White as sheets, white as ghosts. And it occurred to me that the vinegar was causing that.

So I let him have two more chips and I put the bag away, hoping his mother would not notice the change in his facial anatomy (thankfully no, as his lips had returned to normal by the time she was home). But I think he likes, or did like, salt and vinegar chips himself. I wonder if he still might.