Applesauce Days: A Cautionary Tale

Once there was a mommy whose children loved applesauce. Every day the children would lift their angelic faces from the dinner table and say, "More applesauce, please." Of course the Mommy was delighted to fill her children's stomachs with the nourishing treat.

One day the mommy had a thought. "I can make applesauce myself. I know what I shall do! I will pick my own apples and make my own applesauce. In this manner, I shall feed my children in a most frugal and preservative free way."

Soon the apples hung heavy on the trees, and the mommy and her family went in one Accord (Honda) to the orchard to gather the bountiful harvest.

"My Dove," asked her husband, "how many bags shall I get to gather the apples?"

"I think three bags should be sufficient, Darling," she answered.

"But My Dumpling, are you certain?" questioned her husband. "I believe three large bags will hold quite a great quantity."

The mommy answered confidently, "That is precisely what I intend, Beloved."

The family was soon wandering amongst the trees filling their bags with ripe fruit. After a time, the bags were bulging, and the mommy declared that there was now a sufficient quantity of apples to make her sauce (60 pounds, to be precise.)

The mommy was soon ready to begin preparing her applesauce. Realizing that she had a great many apples and not wanting to spend too long in the process, she proceeded to her nearest non-electric goods store. There she valiantly fought her way through the throngs of Amish and senior citizen bus tour groups to emerge with the coveted apple peeler thingy. Her prize in hand, she returned home, put her children down for a nap and began to create the applesauce. Soon there were pots of apple slices simmering on the stove. The sweet stickiness of apple juice ran down from her peeler covering her countertop, and sides of the counters . . . and floor. All afternoon and into the evening she patiently cooked the apples and lovingly added cinnamon to one pot and strawberries to another.

When her husband returned from his labor, he observed, "Why Buttercup, your work has yielded a great supply of applesauce, and yet I perceive the apple bags are yet quite full."

The Mommy thanked her husband for his keen insight and proceeded to prepare the applesauce for storage in the ice box.

The following day, the mommy returned to her bags of apples, determined to transform the entire lot into sauce by the end of the day. She worked with great speed and once again produced much applesauce for storage. Likewise on the third day, the mommy again determined that she would finish her task and rid her kitchen of apples before the sun went down. As she worked, she spoke encouragement to the simmering apples that they might transform into golden sauce with greater haste.

"Die! Die, you stupid apples!" she chortled as she gently bludgeoned them with her potato masher.

On the evening of the third day, the apple bags were empty but for a few stray apples the mommy declared would be set aside for another purpose to be determined at a later date. In her ice box was a vast stockpile of applesauce. The mommy thought she had perhaps been just a tiny bit overambitious and determined to slightly reduce the quantity of apples harvested in the coming year (by several dozen pounds.) She knew her labor would be well rewarded though when receiving the praise of her grateful children.

The following day, during the noon-time meal, the mommy inquired, "Would my angelic children care to partake of the delicious applesauce that I have these so many days endeavored to create for your enjoyment?"

They answered without hesitation, "No, we want fruit snacks."