Yesterday, I left a hot bowl of pepper soup on the table and went to change our baby’s diaper.
Next thing? My husband put it in the baby bottle, saying Let me help you feed Junior
Within seconds AYE MI!!!” 🔥 He was sweating, screaming, and begging for ice like he was on fire 😂
In our house, Saturday evenings were for bonding, pepper soup, and baby food yes, you heard right. Our six-month-old baby, Junior, had just started eating soft blends of mashed sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and sometimes watery oats. Meanwhile, my husband Kunle believed he was a world-class chef because he could boil water and toast bread without burning the house.
One fateful Saturday, I was multitasking as usual—rocking Junior to sleep while trying to prepare pepper soup for Kunle. The spices were spicy enough to make a grown man confess crimes he didn’t commit. I placed the pot carefully on the table to cool down before serving it and went in to change Junior’s diaper. At the same time, I had also mashed some boiled carrots and left it on the counter for Junior’s dinner.
Enter Kunle.
The man walked into the kitchen, saw the steaming bowl on the table, and assumed—yes, assumed—that it was Junior’s new “spicy baby food” I had talked about earlier in the week. Without asking a single question, he scooped a generous amount into Junior’s feeding bottle, added warm water, and shook it like he was mixing protein shake. I was in the room humming lullabies when I heard it.
“AYE MI!” followed by loud coughing and sounds like a tractor reversing down the stairs.
I dropped Junior on the bed and ran to the kitchen, only to find my grown husband bent over the sink, sweating like someone in police custody. His eyes were red, nose running, tongue hanging out, and he was flapping his arms like a chicken caught in traffic.
“I—I thought… it was baby food!” he gasped.
“You did what?” I shouted, unable to decide whether to cry or laugh. He pointed weakly at the bowl, and I realized what had happened. I fell on the floor laughing so hard I nearly choked. Kunle had attempted to “taste” baby food and ended up swallowing a hurricane of pepper soup meant for adults with iron tongues.
We spent the next hour nursing him with cold water, ice cubes, and fan breeze like he had run a pepper marathon. He kept saying, “This baby food is not for babies o,” until I had to remind him babies don’t eat pepper soup with goat meat and uziza.
For the next week, every time someone mentioned “baby food,” Kunle would sneeze and sweat. But funny enough, two weeks later, he came back to the kitchen and said, “Babe, that pepper soup… it slapped differently. You think I can get a refill?”
I stared at him like he was mad. “You sure?”
He smiled and nodded. “But this time, no baby bottle.”
From that day, Kunle became a pepper soup convert. He would even sit in the kitchen offering “expert” opinions on how to balance spice and scent leaf. “Add more crayfish, it brings the tears faster,” he’d say with pride. What began as a disaster became a weekly tradition.
The funniest part? He started telling people he discovered a “new recipe for fitness.” He even told our neighbor that “pepper therapy” helps him think better.
The lesson? Sometimes, our biggest mistakes turn into sweet memories—spicy ones, even. Always ask before you eat, and never judge food by the bowl it’s in. And if your husband mistakes pepper soup for baby food, don’t be mad—just keep the camera rolling.
Moral of the Story:
Ask questions before assuming. One innocent mistake could lead to an unforgettable memory, a bonding moment, and a new love for something hot literally