her grandmothers' genes

One thing my mother and my mother-in-law have in common is a dislike or intolerance of spicy food. Each has her own way of showing it. If a dish is too spicy-hot, my mother-in-law will eat what she can and choke discreetly with sips of cool water. My mother will sigh dramatically, take large gulps of water, flap her hand in front of her mouth, then ask politely "How exactly did you season this?"

This is not the case for the men they married or the children they bore. My dad, my brother, my husband, my father-in-law, my brother-in-law and I all share a liking for spicy food. My BIL will go into a Thai restaurant, order the hottest thing on the menu, then get sriracha on the side in case it's not hot enough. I've seen my brother dump spoonfuls of habanero pepper onto his tacos, go red in the face, sweat profusely at the collar, and claim "it's really not so bad."

This incongruity in spice tolerance means whenever there's a family meal, the dishes are made to suit the delicate palates of the elder ladies, but generous bottles of hot sauce and chili powder are provided for those of us who have killed off more capsaicin receptors than we like to admit.

Tonight when I was making egg curry for dinner, I must have spilled some cayenne pepper on the floor. I get almost all my spices from Penzey's, and I've noticed that their cayenne is much more potent than anything I've gotten at the grocery store or even the bulk spices bin at the co-op. Anya spends a lot of time on the floor, and she obviously scooted her way through that dusting of cayenne because out of the blue, her face turned red and she started wailing with pain. Stuart saw red powder on her fingers and immediately rinsed her hands, but it was too late. The damage was done. For the next 20 minutes, my poor baby girl cried and cried and cried. She refused to be held. She refused to nurse. She refused to have a drink or water or milk. She refused a cold wet washcloth to suck on. She just bounced around the kitchen with her fingers in her mouth, crying pitifully, with her eyes watering, her nose running, drooling profusely.

There was nothing to do but wait it out. After several minutes of misery, Stuart managed to distract her by taking her to the window and playing with the blinds. Eventually, her sobs abated and she happily ate some goldfish crackers and shredded cheese for dinner. After a few bedtime stories, all was forgotten.

She's got a long way to go before she sets a world record.