December 20, 2004
That Little Stinker
So I was eating dinner over at Sister and Bro-In-Law's place, with The Boy Child and The Girl Child. And as usual, The Girl Child was not eating.
If there was ever any doubt, this totally proves that she and my Sister share DNA. When my sisters and I were little, we wouldn't eat ANYTHING. Nothing green, nothing with stuff in it, nothing too dry, nothing too wet, nothing that once swam, nothing with more than three ingredients -- you get the picture.
How we grew into the love-handled, carb-worshipping cream-cheese-whores we are today, I'll never know.
In an inspired move to get Girl Child to expand her menu beyond cheese, apples, chicken nuggets and ketchup, Sister let her pick out something from the store that she wanted to try. And she picked an orange.
What, are you kidding me? I still won't eat an orange. You peel off the skin, and -- hey! -- what's that white placenta stuff it's encased in?! EWWWWWWW! There was no way that kid was eating the tiny molecule of orange on her plate, and deep down inside, we all knew it. Still, we tried.
"C'mon, we'll both eat a piece at the same time."
"If you eat it, you get chocolate pudding!"
"Just lick it."
"You're not getting down from the table until you eat it!"
And you know what happened? My sweet, little niece; my cherubic princess; my life's heavenly light; my darling angel leaned over and whispered to her father,...
"Daddy, know what? You're losing, and I'm winning."
OH NO, SHE DI'INT!!!
Oh yes, she did. And even worse -- she was right.