I don’t even have to start dinner before they start complaining. I’m just that talented. X-Man is still sitting at the kitchen table, head bowed, weeping because dinner is not cereal. Truly, I could serve them cereal and qualify as a good mother in their minds. I’m just going to tuck that away for future reference.
X-Man expresses sorrow quite eloquently. When he’s truly sad, and not just furious at me, he’s genuinely Italian. Full on body shudders, head in hands, wailing. Mediocre mother that I am, it fails to move me, at least in a sympathetic manner. I find it cute and amusing but not enough to convince me to stop making meatloaf for dinner. Meatloaf that he eats by the panful I might add. Also, it is not gross. It’s turkey meatloaf made with V8 and onion soup topped with French’s onions. He has no room to protest.
X-Man’s heartbreak is so eloquent, it can move strangers however. My son is well trained, while he doesn’t recognize fast food restaurants, he knows every coffee shop in the area. And he knows that there are Starbucks in Targets. One day as I commenced our nearly daily trip there, X-Man tried to tempt me “Look MA Taffey!!! Taffey! I tookie?” I’m trying a new path in life, one that has me wondering if I can lose weight if I cease to consume gallons of lattes. So I thanked him for the idea, but declined. However I did tell him I’d see if they had any “tookies” for him to have.
They did not. The display case was empty and the barista said there were no more in the store either.
And X-Man collapsed. A cute little heap of wailing. His head was in his hand, and his head, heavy with curls, shook back and forth. It was a moving display. More so for the other customers, one of whom actually bought his a little package of madeleines that were next to the register. They were greeted with tear stained cheeks, big brown eyes and “Tank you. Tank you for da tookies.”
I suppose I was supposed to feel like a monster or something. As I was completely unmoved by the display. Of course I had been treated to a previous show earlier in the day when I had told him he had to wear pants.
And when I told him that had needed to use a fork when eating dinner.
And that holding a fork in his hand while scooping food into his mouth with the other one was not an acceptable solution.
And when his brother told him Darth Vader was not Doctor Doom.