We didn’t get out much when our kids were little. We learned early on, if people in our pay grade had children, they didn’t have much else. What seemed like a fun and inexpensive hobby, turned out to be an expensive proposition. Having friends over for dinner was about as far as our budget stretched.
One night we had dinner guests and sat the two three-year-old boys down with a plate of what I thought looked like delicious manicotti, a dish new to both of them. Soon, I realized it was a big mistake. My John was a champion talker and felt everyone needed his opinion. Tasting the sauce sauce and announced. “ I don’t like it. Can I have a hot dog.”
“At least try it. I answered. “If you don’t like it, you can have a hot dog.”
He poked it with a fork and spiced meat pressed out. “I can’t eat this, Mommy.!” He yowled. “ “It’s got doo doo in it!”
After that, his little friend Neil refused to try it.. “This is delicious.” He stated flatly, laying his fork down.
His mom cleared things up for me. “He says food is delicious when it’s disgusting.” I knew when I was whipped and went for the hot dogs.