The Onion

Last night in bed...

Luisa: Zeca's room smells like onions.

Vikki: I noticed that too. Weird.

As I was lying there, I contemplated two things.

1. Our pillow talk needs work.

2. Why would Zeca's room smell like onions?

Admittedly, I spent more time on #2 which probably explains the state of #1 but I needed to get to the root of the onion smell. My thought process went something like this:

What have we cooked in the past few days? Have we even had onions recently? Even if we cooked onions, why would the smell only be in her room? I wonder if she took an onion and put it in her room. Why would she do that, though? She hates onions. Could there be wild onions outside and the smell is drifting into her room? Poor kid. Sucks to sleep in a room that smells like onions.

This is what parenting does to you. It makes you consider the possibility that a child would actually keep an onion in her room. Your mind just goes there even though it's absolutely crazy.

This morning over breakfast...

Zeca (to Miguel): Do you like onions?

Miguel: I ate three piles of raw onions on a dare one time.

Zeca: But do you like them?

Miguel: I guess. Why?

Zeca: Just wondering...

All I could think as I listened to this was, "What's with the onions?" The kids then went upstairs to finish getting ready for camp and I could hear them whispering. I do not like it when my children whisper. Most parents probably assume their children are planning a surprise party or breakfast in bed but I always assume mine are plotting a coup.


Kids (in unison): NOTHING!


Zeca appeared on the stairs.

Me: Do you have an onion in your room?

I accused my daughter of hiding an onion in her room. How did my life come to this? How did this become a reasonable thing to ask?

Zeca: NO!

Me: Tell me the truth - do you have an onion in your room?

Zeca: Fine...

She walked back up to her room and returned with an onion and the weirdest part (because the onion hoarding thing isn't weird enough) is that I had never seen this onion before. This was a fugitive onion.

Me: Where did you get this?

Zeca: Susan gave it to me when she was gardening. I've been keeping it wrapped in a washcloth in my room and watering its roots.

Of course. What else would you do when you hide an onion in your room? I told her to put the onion in the kitchen and she did and, as she turned away, I heard her say wistfully, "Bye sweetie."

In the car on the way to camp...

Me: Why were you hiding that onion in your room?

Zeca: I don't want to tell you.

Me: Please tell me.

Zeca: I was going to give it to Miguel for his birthday.

Miguel (laughing): You were going to give me an onion for my birthday?

Zeca: Well, you like onions and this one was fresh, not from the store.

Miguel: That makes sense.

It may be sweet but no - it does not make sense. I guess it really is the thought that counts.