Against all my natural inclinations and maternal urgings, I am extremely disappointed that my children have grown up to be... dare I confess? Oh the shame... "healthy eaters". They are all vegetable freaks, and fight over the dish of veggies to eat as leftovers after dinner. If you ask them what they want to eat they range all over the globe; fajitas, curry, chili, lasagne, golabkis, sesame shrimp stir-fry, pierogi, borscht.
What the hell is wrong with a stick of nitrates, otherwise known as "hot-dogs"? They are kids, they should be eating spoonfuls of ketchup sucked from chips - which is classed as two vegetables, and therefore healthy. As a cook, I excel at opening cans. I bought some tinned pasta several months ago, thinking that I had time to teach The Babe proper toddler eating habits before her sisters corrupted her. She won't even consider it. I intend to print a label filled with "ITNG" characters to wrap around the can, hoping to bribe her to eat the damned stuff before it goes out of date.
Himself must shoulder some of the burden for corrupting his children. He has a small "thing" for protein bars (which taste like compressed cardboard teenage male trainer inserts, left for three months then recycled as litter tray lining. Appetising.) and keeps bringing home new varieties and shoving them in my face to try. As if!
Story time though! He came over the other day with an unidentified white slab and waved it about an inch from my eyeball. "Wanna try this???" I recoil in horror by habit. Hell no. Get it away from me! "Too bad," he smirks, walking away with a white chocolate coconut bar. Git.