My brothers and I used to hold our cooked dinner liver in our mouths and save it until we got in the backyard.
As soon as the coast was clear we would spit it out.
No matter how my mother spiced that liver (in fact I think she never spiced it at all) we gagged.
Frightful as a witch is the way she could be if we were caught smuggling unswallowed morsels of her cooking out the door.
Once when dad did catch us four pitiful soldiers bravely hiding with mouthfuls of her liver AND her spinach out near the frame of the greenhouse he was building,he didn't spank or beat any of us.
He became an instant honorary trusted food combatant with us by saying just two little words quietly so that only we could hear them.
That's right..in one moment he went from being our opposition to being our allied best kitchen spy.
We couldn't hold our contraband under our tongues or in our cheeks a second longer.
I raised my eyebrows in question just once,to be positive that I had heard him correctly. I had.
The words? "Bury It".