Like Mother Like Daughter

When I was a little girl I had several bad experiences with eggs that resulted in my pure hate relationship with them. I can recount stories involving eggs scrambled, poached, fried, boiled, and in egg salad sandwiches…all of which end quite badly; in some cases for the egg, but in most cases for me! Actually I can think of two ways I like eggs: in quiche and cookies or cakes. I do like a good Cadbury egg at Easter time as well. But, I digress.

Abigail has turned out to be a very, very picky eater. Her dining repertoire consists of as many foods as I can count on both hands. We are always trying to get her to try new foods, but she is quite reluctant to touch anything to her lips that she is uncertain of. So, while sitting in the Frankfurt Airport lounge we were happy to see her show some interest in a hard-boiled egg. Her original interest, I believe, came because it had been dyed pink for the upcoming Easter holidays. She brought it to us and asked what it was. We told her it was an egg, like what we make quiche with. She is a fellow quiche-lover and an expert egg-cracker when assisting with any baking. Her curiosity piqued, she decided to take a bite. The following photos are of the reaction that ensued.
By the time it was actually shelled, it was too late. She had already traded up for a biscuit and told Erin to get it away from her. (Frankly, I can't blame her.) P-U!