Breakfast, my favorite meal of the day. Mainly because it involves bacon, ham or sausage.
Pig of some sort.
There is a breakfast burrito with my name on it that I am waiting for in a favorite place of mine. As long as the cook picks up the snails pace he seems to work in. However, he cooks like a master, so I will immediately forgive him and bite my tongue.
Plus, if I bitch loudly, he will spit in my food, I am sure of it.
A family has come in with 3 little kids. Looks like age 4 thru 8 or so.
And they have chosen the table right next to me.
I should cut them some slack, but I realized a long time ago, I dislike and have no patience for other peoples kids.
They are not cute, adorable or geniuses.
Mine are, and that is how I see it.
My burrito arrives and I begin to devour with glee. All parts of pig are represented and covered with cheddar and salsa. My mouth is burning and I am certain this will give me the shits. But it tastes too damn good to stop.
A curious thing is going on. The three kids are sitting at the table next to me, while mom orders at the counter.
Dad is about three feet from me, feeding dimes into a gumball machine.
$1.50 has been fed in and Dad now have a double handful of gumballs.
What the hell?
He puts them in the pocket of his hoodie and goes to sit with the kids.
Maybe they are big on gum?
Don’t know, don’t care.
Back to my carnivore breakfast , wrapped in a tortilla.
After my third topping off of my coffee by the bus boy, (If they came around and topped you off at Starbucks, I would
shit myself and die happy), the family’s food arrives.
This is where the weird begins.
Everyone has a plate of food.
Except the youngest.
Her plate is empty.
And then Dad puts 15 gumballs on her plate.
The 4 year old takes a gumball, chews it maybe 5 times, then swallows.
It hits me like a baseball bat in the middle of the forehead.
This is her breakfast.
A serious case could also be made for this being child abuse but lets not get ahead of ourselves.
The parents have made that critical error of trying to appease the fussy eater. The child whines, cries, throws a tantrum, (And most likely her food), all when being forced to eat regular food.
So the parents made a decision.
They won’t be parents.They will keep the peace. They will serve her whatever will make her happy and let them eat in peace.
I raised a fussy eater, trust me, the peace they gained is an illusion. The kid has the upper hand and will not hesitate to use it at a later date.
That is how the upper hand thing works.
I fought world war three with my son over eating corn. To this day, he won’t eat it.
But he did then, damn straight.
One of his favorite dishes now is lasagna. However, it took a half hour of crying and trying his best to dry heave to get him to take that first bite.
Then the little shit finished it and asked for seconds.
I am reminiscing and have finished both my breakfast and enough coffee to get the java monkey off of my back.
I leave the family to the monster they have decided to create and head out, thinking about the wildly frustrating crap fest dinner used to be when my boy was that age.