Viva has been very opinionated about food lately. She seems mainly to want spaghetti or pizza. Also, after a period of becoming more amenable to the concept of a sandwich at lunch (but only when wrapped in a whole wheat tortilla! Or stuffed in a whole wheat pita pocket!), Viva has become more fascist about her lunch as well. Since I can only take so much of “I don’t want that” at the dinner table after working a full day, coming home and starting dinner within 10 to 15 minutes of walking in the door, I am more than a little sick of her intransigence on this issue. I sit down and plan out a healthy, varied menu every weekend before I go grocery shopping. I am a good cook. I enjoy cooking. I know she is just going through a phase.
Anyway, so now you have the context. On the way to school today, Viva asked me what day it was. Since I am one of those sickos who believes each day is full of teaching moments, I had her review the days of the week to figure out that if yesterday was Wednesday, what today was. So then she figured out that tomorrow will be Friday.
“YAY!” she shrieked. “PIZZA NIGHT! Right, Mama?”
“Yes, babe,” I said. “On Fridays, we have pizza for dinner.”
“What are we having for dinner tonight?”
“Well,” I said, taking a new tactic, “What would you like?”
“Vegetables,” Viva said.
“Really. What kind?”
“Mmmm…broccoli, and carrots…”
“Okay, and what else?”
“Bacon!”
Bacon. I swear to God.
After some negotiation, we settled on a chicken stir-fry with broccoli, carrots, baby corn, and mushrooms.
Bacon. What the hell?
2 comments:
We are living parallel lives. My youngest daughter exists on air and air alone.
God help us.
I feel your pain! Let me tell you what Viva ate for Thanksgiving: turkey and gravy. That's it. No stuffing, no potatoes, no green beans, no.
Oh, and cake. My mother-in-law brought cake instead of pie.
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