As a child, if you dared me to do something, I‘d do it. There didn’t even have to be a monetary reward involved. The thrill and reward was taking on the dare – earning the respect of my peers. Funny kind of respect, but, hey, we were kids…
Chewed a blob of gum found on the sidewalk...
if memory serves, it looked remarkably like this one
Ate a dead ant (not even chocolate covered)
And a dead worm
the one I ate was smaller – and I refused the dare to eat a live one
I also ate a bowl of porridge full of tiny insects. This last culinary delight was not on a dare but was by mistake - my father’s mistake. He’d prepared it from a bag of OLD oats and I would have eaten anything made by my father.
couldn’t find an image with insects – these are raisins
Times have changed. This week I threw out an entire apple and some grapes – all appeared to have been nibbled by mice. No amount of washing could convince me to eat their leftovers. Although, yes, I would if I were starving.
Where did my spirit of adventure go? My willingness to take risks?
Or maybe I just need someone to dare me…???
photo credits: google images