When I was growing up, my family was not known to waste much of anything. My kids realized long ago that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree on that one. We ate our “warmups” (leftovers), and one of the biggest tragedies of my youth was the infamous “Pepper Incident.” My mom had chopped up a batch of peppers and froze them alongside every loaf of bread and pack of buns in the freezer. Whether freezer bags just didn’t seal as well back then or it was a secret plot to get me to eat less carbs, the result was a catastrophe. For months, every hamburger or hot dog bun I touched had a distinct, inescapable “pepper vibe.” It ruined the protein and ensured I wouldn’t become a fan of peppers for decades. In fact, it got so bad I started opting for plain bread—which, in those days, my father bought in “old” bags at a substantial discount. If we didn’t freeze it immediately, that bread was destined to host its own thriving mold colony.

The Mystery at the Dinner Table

But I digress. My mother’s efficiency didn’t stop at peppers. She’d often drain the juice from canned fruits because the recipe didn’t require it. What do you do with a cup of random fruit juice sitting in the fridge? You pour it into the Kool-Aid container with whatever flavor was already there.

Dinner became a game of Russian Roulette for the taste buds. I wasn’t one to hold back. After the first sip, I’d ask, “What exactly did you mix up for us tonight?” My mother didn’t mean any harm; she was just being efficient. But those flavor potpourris made an impression—one that would eventually haunt my own children.

Upping the Ante: The Bus Stop Games

When my sons were in elementary school, they took a shuttle bus to a pickup location near our home. To show them I was thinking about them, I’d bring a snack and a drink. The snack was the easy part. The drink was where I “kicked it up a notch.”

The game was simple: “Guess What You Are Drinking?” At my disposal, I had various fruit juices, every Kool-Aid packet known to man, and a set of food coloring bottles. I’d create concoctions that looked like pond water (minus the floaties) but were guaranteed to be drinkable. This was before the pickle juice craze, so I kept it somewhat civil.

The heart of the game was “taste-budding out” the flavors dancing over their palates. I’d offer partial credit—when you’re mixing two types of Kool-Aid, a splash of pear juice, and blue food dye, you can’t exactly expect perfection. They participated because they knew I wasn’t required to bring a snack, and perhaps because of the unspoken rule: If you don’t drink today’s mystery, there might not be one tomorrow. (I never did mention that part to their mother.)

The “Fun Grandpa” Era

I’d like to say I made everything fun for them growing up, but I didn’t. Like anyone, I had my cranky days. But as I spend time with my granddaughter now—occasionally offering a capful of Gatorade as a “chaser” after her bottle of formula—I hope I lean heavier into the fun side of the ledger.

If you can’t be a perfect parent, make sure you mix in enough quirky and fun to help the natives forget the days you didn’t quite “nail it.”