Friday, September 19, 2008

Not a restaurant

Three kids mean three different taste buds. And I have much respect for taste. I know that fish makes me want throw up all my innards and my organs, and dark meat does nothing for me. I actually find dark meat disgusting, and gag if it winds up on my plate. So when my oldest gags on kiwi fruit, I get it. I'm sure she doesn't want her esophagus voluntarily lurching out of her body, anymore than I want to see it happen. And when my Middle gags on spaghetti and pukes for 6 hours after awakening the next day, (really, for once I am not exaggerating, she really does. It is the WEIRDEST thing), so avoid it for her, just because that sucks. Baloney eats like she is Kobiashi the hot-dog eating champion, so there is not much she doesn't like. I am all about not making people wretch with my cooking.

Now that we have clarified that I have a heart, I refuse, on a daily basis to make a million meals to please the pickiest eater. It never fails, that I can put a hot dish on the table, and the little birds at my table all open theirs mouths at once. Not to be fed of course, but start shouting orders.

"Can I have this and this?"
"You know I don't like blah blah!"
"Are we supposed to eat that?" (Yeah real polite kid I got)
"I no like dat one." (complete with spitting noises)
"Will you put only blah blah next to blah blah?"
"Why didn't you...."

Yeah I could go on for days. so this is the standard convo I pull out every time this starts. And it's working.

"Do I wear a name tag? Did I hand you a menu? Have I asked you what can I get for you? None of those things have nor will be taking place. Why? Because this is not a restaurant. Only in restaurants do you get to request special things. Why? Because they get paid. Did you bring money to the table tonight? Then I am not getting paid. When people don't get paid, and do something because it was nice, we are grateful. Grateful means to be happy that you have food to eat, and that someone MADE you food to eat. Smile, and nod. Then chew."

Sheepish smiles, and quiet kids. It has been working well. Until 2 nights ago, when carrots, broccoli, cauliflower (in cheese sauce, I'm not a total nutrition Sergeant) made an appearance at our table. Oldielocks crinkled her nose and said. "I think I have fifty cents. You're getting paid tonight to not put any on my plate."

I guess I need to change my speech.

3 comments:

Polly Wolly said...

..and when they run out of real money, watch out for the Monopoly money manuever. ;) LOL! Thanks for the laughs!

~teachmom~ said...

That is too funny! It seems we are all not resteraunts. Scary when they come up with these clever comebacks, eh?

J. Leigh Designz said...

Oldielocks has gotten to smart for her own britches LOL!