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Lifes Like That: The show must go on
Sarah Carson
for Spotlight
There is nothing like meal-time theatrics to send a parent into fast-food frenzy.
Act one at our house is carried out by Ben - my eldest son, who has decided recently that 99% of what his mother is serving either looks like puke, or worse - tastes like it. Foods that he has happily scarfed down for 7 years have become repulsive; his tragic facial expressions would put a mime to shame. The level of Ben’s drama rivals the greatest Spanish daytime soap star – if only I could send him to auditions, I’m sure my mortgage would be paid within a week.
The only foods that pass through this child’s lips are hot dogs and tacos. These are consumed in such vast quantities that a trip to the hospital is surely on the horizon. Not only that, but he has turned our hot dog and taco nights into a competition; taunting the rest of us for actually chewing our food while he brandishes his 4th or 5th taco in the air.
Act two (if we’ve survived Act one intact) is Jack’s scene. Now, I have to hand it to him; this child follows our house rule (you don’t have to eat it – but you have to try it) to a T. “Mom...I don’t really like it, but I’m eating it anyway.” (Yes, Jack polishes his little halo while Ben sits and sneers at his plate. Nothing like a little suppertime game of “good kid/bad kid”.)
So Jack will at least TRY anything. The issue is that he tries it while carrying out the most intricate dinner table dance you’ve ever seen. (Greek restaurants have nothing on my kid.) No doubt Jack will become the uber-hot designer of the trendy 2 legged chair, because that’s all he gets to stand on. If this child ever has a concussion the most likely cause will be because he’s fallen off his chair AGAIN and finally knocked himself out during a meal.
And then - just before the final curtain, there’s Sammy. Our human food launcher.
For Ben, this hurled food is just an added excuse not to eat what is on his own plate – not only was it disgusting to begin with, now it’s been contaminated with baby-germs. For Jack, this is just another opportunity to abandon his place at the table – overcome with giggles and falling all over himself.
I sit. I chew. I contemplate kid-less candle-lit dinners in far flung corners of the world. And when all else fails, I sigh. Because no matter how unruly, disruptive or dramatic your star players are...the show must go on.
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