PB & J

I have eaten PB & J sandwiches all my life. A little peanut butter, a little grape jelly and (yum) white bread! Deelicious! But I have never eaten a PB & J sandwich like the one my 4-year old granddaughter made for me. We were getting ready to go to the beach and everyone was running around trying to gather all the towels, sunscreen, flip-flops, water jugs, umbrellas, sand toys, and making lunches for 4 little girls and 3 women. Someone called out to me to find out what kind of sandwich I wanted. Exasperated by not being able to find my sunglasses, I yelled out that any kind would do.

Later, at the beach, I was handing out sandwiches, drinks, chips, and cookies (you name it, they brought it!) and ran out of ham sandwiches. There were no more "good" sandwiches left, only one gooey PB & J. I quickly scanned the little girls' sandwiches, positive someone was eating my ham and cheese. No, they were all eating PB & J! My little granddaughter, Emma, tapped me on the shoulder, "Nana, I made you a sandwich!" She was pointing to the PB & J still in the cooler.

Sure enough, she took care of me and packed me a sandwich. A gooey PB & J! It had approximately 1/4 jar of peanut butter (the crunchy kind) and 1/4 jar of grape jam on it. It was oozing out the sides and sticking to the inside of the baggie. When eating it, I couldn't have talked if I wanted to! Peanut butter glued my mouth shut and grape jelly was dripping off my chin. She stood beside me the whole time I was eating and asked, "Is it good, Nana? Didn't I make a good sandwich for you?" The love pouring from her was enough for me to manage to swallow without choking.

It was the best PB & J I have ever eaten.