Jen and K-Man have been out of town for a while. They will be home tomorrow, and I am looking forward to having them around again. I talked to them on the phone tonight. Kee was jumping on the bed looking at himself in the mirror while he was jumping. He does the same thing in his playroom. We have a mini-trampoline that he got for Christmas last year. He loves to jump on it and look at himself in the mirror. He seems to watch to see how high he’s jumping and to see if he’s jumping correctly. As long as he’s staying on the tramp and not jumping off and crashing into one of the three train sets strewn about the room, I’d say that’s “correct” enough.
Thinking about them coming home got me to thinking about a story from a few weeks ago. Keegan has been on a quesadilla kick for the last month or so. Rather than spend money at Moe’s or Willy’s on his occasionally favorite meal, Jen decided to just make them at home on the pancake griddle. Works like a charm by the way. The problem was that he was just eating tortillas and cheese. Needed some more nutrients. So Jen tried to sneak in some more nutritious substances. First, she tried to add some veggies with the cheese, thinking he wouldn’t notice. Wrong. He took a bite and looked more closely at the assortment of quesadilla pieces on his plate and turned to Jen and said “no like.” Busted.
Next, she tried to add some chicken. Now, he’ll eat chicken from time to time. But apparently, he doesn’t like that in his cheese quesadilla either.
Undeterred, Jen got some tofu, which is made from soy. Tofu is the food equivalent of that liquid metal stuff they made those next generation Terminators out of in Terminator 2. It can take whatever form you need it to. It’s white, like some of the cheese in the mexican blend of shredded cheese we use for the quesadillas. When placed on a tortilla with shredded cheese and heated on a griddle, it blends fairly well with the melted queso. And it’s tasteless, so it absorbs the cheese flavor. This one got by K-man’s cheese-dar. Poor kid. Duped by his momma.
A few days later, I was home with Kee while Jen was running errands. It got to be dinner time, so I asked him what he wanted for dinner. This question doesn’t yet generate a response containing a choice of entree. It seems to alert him that the parent will then rattle off a selection of options. To which he will respond “no.” Or he will repeat the choice that he wants.
So knowing that he’s on a quesadilla kick, I throw that one out first — hoping that I can shorten the exercise of dinner selection. I say “do you want a quesadilla?“
“Quesadilla” he repeats.
“Do you want a quesadilla?“
And as I’m walking from the pantry with the tortillas to the fridge to pull out the shredded cheese, he places his order: “Just cheese.”
It’s hilarious to me that the kid is aware that his mom is trying to sneak in foreign substances into his quesadilla thereby ruining the meal for him. “Yea, she calls it a ‘quesadilla,’ but I know she’s slipping other stuff in there.” And apparently, I’m guilty by association. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel the need to clarify his order with me.
So I grabbed the cheese out of the fridge and told him “Just cheese.“
“OK.” he shot back.