I have a few things to say about food today. First, it is a natural phenomenon in our house that the moment I bulk-buy a particular food kick, the trend immediately dissipates and I'm stuck with (drink) 52 boxes of Easy Mac that nobody will eat. They'll be obsessed with pears and I'll buy a half dozen only to discover a brown, mushy mound at the bottom of the fruit bowl a week later. I have a ginourmous family pack of Ego Chocolate Chip Waffles (drink) collecting freezer burn and taking up a prime chunk of real estate in my freezer. And the lineup (drink) of breakfast cereals collecting dust on the pantry shelf is ridiculous. I'd eat them myself, but, frankly, my empty calories are allocated to wine, not Cocoa Krispies.
Or, I'll make the cardinal mistake - buying the wrong brand. You would think that a cheese puff is a cheese puff, right? Nope. They can discern the difference between Jax and Cheetos. When the "wrong" brand went on sale, I bought a few bags, not thinking anything of it. Score for the local food pantry!
Another phenomenon worth noting: Meyerisms. I bet every family has them, though, so they have a different title which is sur-name dependent. But in our house, you might hear our kids ask for "Cookie Milk," for example. This is not milk for dunking purposes, as you might surmise. It is the name given to the Lactaid milk which Kaleb drinks (due to a taste preference; not an intolerance to lactose) because on the carton, there is a picture of a chocolate chip cookie, intended, I'm sure to lure customers based on the enticing dessert which pairs perfectly with a glass of lactose-free milk (you won't get digestive problems from this milk, but take it easy on the cookies!). (Drink)
We also refer to sliced American cheese from the deli as "Cheese the Man Gave Me." This stems from an experience with Kaleb years ago, back in the day when not only deli counters were open, but the slicing people (butchers? deli associates?) would offer little kids the first slice, often to shut them up so parents could shop. More (drink) often than not, for me, anyway, the coveted "free sample," would wind up smashed into a fowl smelling ball which I would have to carry around until I found a trash receptacle. Or, there would be a trail in our wake and unfortunately back then, there was no robot cleaner to tend to the mess. After one such visit, Kaleb later asked for a piece of "cheese the man gave me". I didn't understand what he was referring to at first, but when I finally cracked the code, the name stuck and we even add it to our shopping list that way. Same goes for "Yogurt Monkeys" which are those sugar infused D'Animal Yogurt Smoothies which happen to have pictures of monkeys on the (drink) bottle.
Finally, let's talk about desserts. Back when Abigail and Paige were toddlers, we introduced the concept of a "special treat" after dinner. But after awhile, we simply called these treats desserts, because if you have them every single night, they are no longer special. Still, dessert time does seem like an event in our house, albeit nightly. There's a lot of negotiating involved, particularly on the twin level. They'll line up a smorgasbord of options (drink) and painfully narrow it down to three or four front runners. Unable to eliminate anything, the negotiations begin. "Can I have four skittles, a Hersey kiss, six M&M's and two Oreos with whipped cream on top?" "You can pick two of those things." See, they start big, and we start small, eventually bargaining to an acceptable point, much like lawyers haggling through a divorce settlement. Sometimes I cave too early out of sheer laziness. I figure if they get a stomachache later, I'll have some leverage for next time. Plus they just have baby teeth now, so cavity shmavity.
Speaking of teeth, I'll leave you with this. It's a Tik Tok trend and it's really weird.
The kids have been walking around with these plastic bottles of Martinelli apple juice all day making crunchy sounds. Talk about damaging your teeth.
Food. So much more than a means of survival. It's entertainment, bribes, the focal point of social meetings, and the bane of my existence. Bon Appetite!