Ham Salad Monkey

I just got home from my morning errand run and made myself a nice ham salad sandwich for a snack.

Ham salad and I go back a long way. My Mom use to make it a lot when I was a little girl. By the time I was four or five years old, the "ham salad monkey" had firmly attached itself to my back. I would have eaten ham salad sandwiches three times a day if my mother would have let me.

Of course, she didn't.

One morning when I was in first grade, I discovered a fresh bowl of ham salad in the fridge and I decided that's what I wanted for breakfast. Mom said, "No", but I argued my case. She offered to fry some eggs for me instead (how boring!) My relentless protest eventually wore her down. She agreed to fix a ham salad sandwich for me, but only if I promised not to tell anyone.

It was obvious that Mom's interest in the nutritional value of my breakfast was not so much the cause for her denying me the ham salad sandwich, as was her fear that someone might find out she'd fed her six year old child (insert *gasp* here) a lunch item for her morning meal.

That ham salad sandwich tasted almost as good to me as did the sweet victory I felt in winning the breakfast war that day.

Later, I sat at my desk at school as Mrs. Ward gave her usual "good morning" class talk. I was half paying attention to her, and half watching a bird hop around on the sidewalk outside the window when I heard her introduce our topic for the day.

It was "nutrition". Yada, yada ... Three balanced meals a day, lots of dairy products, not so much sugar ... I knew the drill. I'd been born six years earlier, not just the night before, after all. I directed my attention back to the hopping bird.

Then, Mrs. Ward said something that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. She announced that she was going to go around the room and have each of us tell the rest of the class what we'd eaten for breakfast.

I gulped, wondering if my mother could possibly have been angry enough over losing the battle of eggs vs. ham salad, that she'd called the school and tattled on me. I sank down into my seat, quite literally sweating it out as each student reported their breakfast choices to the class.

Bacon and eggs.

Oatmeal.

Cereal and Orange juice.

Milk and toast.

Cream of wheat.

I prayed that someone would come up with " A Three Musketeers candy bar and grape pop" .. anything that might actually make my ham salad sandwich seem like a good idea.

God must have been on my Mother's side that day because before I knew it, it was my turn to tell what my personal breakfast meal had consisted of. I was within mere seconds of being found guilty of poor food choices by a jury of my first grade peers.

All eyes were on me, including Mrs. Ward's. Not only was she looking at me, she had the audacity to be smiling and nodding, giving me the non-verbal order to "Go ahead and make yourself the laughing stock of the whole class ... NOW!"

I was pretty sure I caught a glimpse of the food police waiting to pounce on me just outside the classroom door.

I had to make a decision and I had to make it fast. Smooth as silk, I smiled sweetly back at Mrs. Ward and said, "I had eggs!"

Whew! I wasn't busted after all. Yes, I'd lied and I felt terrible about that, but I was counting on asking forgiveness as soon as the attention of the class (and Mrs. Ward)was on the next victim.

I vowed never to have ham salad for breakfast again as long as I lived.

Of course, as time passed I found the ham salad monkey on my back again and I succumbed to it. To this day, I love to eat ham salad sandwiches for breakfast, but now I don't have to hide that fact from anyone. It's just one of the benefits of being a grown up!

Yes, ham salad was and always will be, a very good friend of mine!