The War of the Forks

pajLast night, Daniel asked me what we would have for dinner today. I told him “Broccoli Pie”. He said “No! Why do we have to eat that just because you don’t like Tacos anymore?”. I didn’t bother answering. This morning T. told him that he was going to go in to the bedroom to hear what we should eat for dinner. Daniel informed him “She says that we are having Broccoli Pie!”. T. did not believe him so he came in and I just repeated what Daniel had just said. Then I heard T. repeat it to “Cookie” in the kitchen and the screaming and whining started. She went on and on and on about it. After an hour I had had enough and told him to send her upstairs. Starting to say that it is disgusting ten hours before it is to be eaten! A meal she has never eaten before! I got really angry. She came in to the bedroom and asked why we were going to eat a dinner that noone likes. “I love it and I have dreamed of having broccoli pie for years now! I am sick and tired of Tacos and want to choose for once!”, was my answer.

I literally have dreamed of it for years! My friend Susanne brought a broccoli pie for a scrapbooking party I hosted, years ago. She left the leftover pie with me and I had it for dinner for three days in a row. I begged for the recipe and she sent it along with that year’s Christmas card, but I have never been able to persuade the family to have it for dinner. This weekend I had had enough. Three Saturdays in a row, I have had to suffer through Tacos. My taste buds are affected by my thyroid problems of course. But one can really get sick and tired of something!!!!

“Kitty” went to a Birthday party and when T. got home with him and “Boo” and “Dollie”, that had gone grocery shopping with T. while the party was on, then “Boo” started HIS screaming and whining, that he doesn’t eat broccoli. The smells from the kitchen were divine and we all sat down at the dinner table. Minus “Boo” who was on a food strike. I cut up slices for everyone. Small pieces for “Cookie” and “Kitty” that were frowning their noses. And a mini piece for “Sparky” who by now sat screaming “I don’t want pie” eventhough he had no idea what it was, but he had heard “Boo’s” whining for over one hour. Daniel took a big piece. So did “Dollie”. As did T. and I.  Dinner proceeded in this manner: Daniel quickly polished off three pieces. “Dollie” had soon eaten two pieces. I had two and a half pieces and ate too fast for my own good, since I get stressed out when people sit and complain about the food or whine. Little “Sparky” saw us eating so he actually picked up his fork and started to eat. Then “Boo” came out and screamed by the table that he hates pie, hates broccoli and that made “Sparky” put down his fork, and he tried to leave the table. I had “Boo” go to the wash room, so we did not have to hear his whining and screams. I wanted “Sparky” to start eating again. Which he did after a while. “Kitty” and “Cookie”? Well, the previous had promised me that he would eat up his dinner. He had a very small piece. But he only ate the pie crust and sat and watched his sister, that had declared since early morning that this was disgusting, and followed her example. He just sat and played with the filling. And she? She sat and played with the food and made herself gag. Right beside me! Drinking glass after glass of water. I finally lost my temper. I screamed at her that if one tells one’s body that something is going to be disgusting, it will be. That she never gave the dish a chance and that she should be ashamed of herself. At 20:00, the first competition in the Eurovision song contest, was starting. She and “Kitty” and “Boo” were not allowed to see it. All three were sent to bed between 19:00 and 20:00, but not before they saw their siblings have dessert. I am not taking this sort of behaviour from them. Had this been a spicy, strange meal, I could have understood. But this is child friendly. No strange flavours. Nothing strong. No bizarre consistency. I really felt disappointed with them. We can’t have fish fingers, shop bought meat balls and Tacos EVERY DAY! I am sick and tired of it. That they rule the household with their finicky tastes. Why should I have to sit and eat oatmeal for dinner every evening or pop corn, because I can’t eat that kind of food anymore? Is it too much to ask, to get to eat something that I ENJOY, for once?


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