Wednesday, November 28, 2007

When Genetics Go Terribly Wrong

This morning, Little Man leads me to the pantry, as he always does, to choose his breakfast.

When we get there, he looks up at the shelves above him, the ones where I hide all the food he shouldn't have and he says "I want this one?"

I follow his hand with my eyes and realize that he's pointing at a bag of spaghetti. My child? Loves to eat raw pasta for some reason. He could literally eat an entire box of macaroni raw, if I would let him, but unfortunately, my fear of him having no teeth won't allow him to get on the raw diet that has made Demi Moore so hot.

So I tell him that no, he cannot have spaghetti.

And since every book on raising toddler tells you to distract them with something they can have in order to avoid a tantrum, I tell him "would you like these powdered donuts instead?"

Because what could be a more nutritious breakfast than processed dough that has been fried and coated in pure crack?

My son acquiesces that yes, this is a mighty good plan for breakfast, so I get him his cup of soy milk (we were out of Coke, obviously), and place him on the bed in front of the television while I finish getting ready for work.

I can hear all of you running to call CPS from here. Does it help if I tell you I give him a Flinstone vitamin?

So as I'm eating my healthy breakfast which consists of a little coffee drowned by 3 cups of flavored creamer with a toasted English muffin smothered by a stick of unsalted butter (oh God, how my taste buds are salivating again just at the description...), Little Man calls to me. Thinking he must have already inhaled the four mini donuts and that he's asking for more, I brace myself for having to tell him that I will not be giving him another package of donuts.

As I walk in, he has a look of disgust on his face and says "no more donuts momma" and he proceeds to shove the remaining 3.5 donuts towards me. My legs buckle at this point, because I'm concerned that he will never fit in here in Texas, the land of lard biscuits covered in lard gravy and that he'll be deported to California, where he'll open a restaurant that serves nothing but rice cakes coated in wheat germ and grass.

He then proceeded to break my heart by asking for a banana.

It is very clear to me now that the hospital? They gave me the wrong child.

To get over the sadness that fills my heart, I ate those 3.5 donuts. It was a hollow feeling.

Love,

Catwoman.

14 comments:

Kellie said...

DNA testing will ease your mind if the hospital messed up ;)

Morgan picks peaches and bananas over crack covered processed dough, too.

Which is too bad, really. She doesn't know what she's missing :)

Morgan Leigh said...

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

:)

Sandy said...

It's some sort of virus attacking only little Texans! My lil man chose a clementine (orange/tangerine cross) over a go-tart!

I just bought our 2nd lug of clementines this week!

Bren said...

I would have probably eaten the 3.5donuts too!

Melissa said...

OMG! How does he not have the Tim Horton's gene? Or maybe he does but the donuts in your pantry weren't from Tim's and he knew it and therefore had to reject them. I'll have to fedex you a box of Timbits so we can test this further. :)

beebop said...

TP turned her nose up @ double fudge chocolate chunk brownies last week, it crushed me...

Rachel said...

Alyssa wouldn't share the cake I was eating the other day.

It's like Village of the Damned.

AnGlOpHiLe FoOtBaLl FaNaTiC said...

You seem to have stumbled upon a new kind of child psychology. Give them the bad....cause as toddlers they automatically want the opposite.

You're using the Force. These are not the good for you foods you want.

Way to be Catlady.

Oh, and Lindsay @ Splat says she's finding it hard to get a hold of you.

Julie said...

Maybe you have the next Bob Greene (or whoever Oprah's food guru is) on your hands.

Blue Momma said...

Little man is so grown up! Punkin loves bananas, too, but would live off of Scooby Doo gummies if he could.

Though he does try to eat my healthy cereal each morning, he would equally devour a bowl of fruit loops, too.

He is definitely his momma's child!

That Chick Over There said...

You kill me.

Emma in Canada said...

Sophie is my healthy eater. Saoirse? Drinking coke regularly since she was 15 months old. I blame her father, it was when they were in Australia for that 3 months. Sophie's not allowed it.

random_mommy said...

We don't have this "problem." Buddha would LOVE living in your house of sugar!

I'm a Mom!..? said...

Flintstones makes it all good! In our house we start the day explaining why we don't eat M&M's for breakfast, I guess it never hurts to try!