Ezum

Ezum= Raisin in Russian. Of all the words that I know, its kind of random that I would remember that one. I still remember the day I learned it. I was nearly in tears from our Russian lesson (somehow Sister Victoria thought sentence were a good place for us to start when I couldn't even READ Russian...) All I wanted was to be able to go to the grocery store and ask for food that I needed for my projects in class. My lesson plan for the next day included raisins. So, with the word for raisin under my belt I asked how to say, "I want." Which I was told was, "Ya Hatchew" (Kind of like the sound you make when you are sneezing. I ignored the rest of the lesson because I knew what I needed-and I didn't need any more.


Imagine now a Russian grocery store. Happy old women with bad hair dye jobs behind counters. Now imagine ignorant American saying to each one, "I want raisin. I want raisin." Its no wonder they think Americans are rude and weird!

Ezum, raisin, dried grape...whatever you call it. They are the joy of Noelle's life and the bane of mine. She is sitting on the floor next to me, when she is supposed to be napping. Why? Because she has a mouthful of raisin that she is spit processing into raisin jam. She won't chew. I can't very well put her to bed with food in her mouth. She even fell asleep in her high chair, but will she swallow. NOPE. I would be more eager to file a horses teeth than to reach my fingers in her mouth so I guess she will sit there until she swallows.

I am not really sure how this addiction started. I began by buying small little boxes of raisins. I even cut them in half because the doctor said they were a chocking hazard. Now Noelle stands at the pantry hitting the door until someone gives her raisins. We have dinner and her plate is full of yummy things. She's not interested-she just wants raisins. Breakfast=raisins. Lunch=raisin. Dinner=Raisins.
Oh my Noelley. No wonder you are fruity.