Apple Brown Rhiannon


Rhiannon called me the other night when I was visiting in Illinois:

Dad: Hello?
Rhiannon: What's your favorite apple product?
Dad: ...
Rhiannon: WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE APPLE PRODUCT!
Dad: Um, apple pie.
Rhiannon: Okay.

What was that about? The last thing I expected was to be put on trial for my choice of apple treats, but there it was. Was the Door County apple cartel behind this? Rival Washingtonians?

Apparently neither. Rhiannon's school had Apple Week last week, and students (and their families) were required to bring in examples of all of the different products made with apples. This included scary apple-core dolls and food like applesauce, um, apple pie, er, apples (red), ah, apples (not red). Rhiannon had to bring in apple butter (which I believe is collected from stud apples found on select trees). And then the class had some kind of apple orgy in which every kid tried every apple product.

Dad: Rhiannon, what's YOUR favorite apple product?
Rhiannon: Apple pie.

This is a blatant untruth. She eschews pie. She does eat applesauce (when under pressure), but mostly likes miniature Pink Lady apples, or apples covered in caramel. When she was two-and-a-half, she ate an entire apple, seeds, stem, and all, while riding along in the back seat to the store. Nothing was left excepting the sticky evidence around that terrible maw.

"Rhiannon? Where's the apple?"
"All gone."
"All of it?"
"Yes."

I wonder if, when Rhiannon turns 21, her opinion of apple products will change. One wonders also who the parent was who brought in Applebarrel Schnapps for the teachers that day, and what happened to the bottle.

Rhiannon. Ciderhouse Cute.

Andrew (Papa)