Because the boys had such great days, respectively, at school last Tuesday, and because I got home from my pilates class so late, it was a perfect excuse to give into the boys' repeated requests to eat at a local fast food italian joint. This particular establishment offers a Tuesday special that boasts a trio of spaghetti, fettucini, and a slice of pizza for $2.99. Because we are totally into exotic culinary experiences.
If you are suspicious of the quality of food one can purchase for $2.99, then you should pay close attention to your gut instincts. In this case, you definitely get what you pay for in the quality department.
Still, it was cheap and the breadsticks (FREE!) are to die for. When deciding what to order for our 3 little angels, it was decided that the boys would split a special. That just left Missy. So I did the obvious- I asked her what she wanted.
Her response was anything but obvious.
"Sa-yed." (2 yr. old speak for "salad").
I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly, sweetie? What do you want for dinner?
So I ordered her a garden salad.
Any innocent patron of said restaurant who might have been surveying our table must have had the passing thought that they should make an immediate call to CPS. 4 of us were chowing down on marinara-smothered carbs while our little darling munched on rabbit food. Like we were the crazy parents putting our toddler on a diet.
If I've ever in my life craved salad, it has only been the kind covered in bacon, croutons, cheese. And drowned in ranch. With some carrots thrown in for token nutrients. Yet Missy is now asking for salad at every turnaround. Just tonight when we asked her what she wanted for dinner, her response was, "I wan say-ed." SERIOUSLY?!?!?! She's begging for salad. Literally. At this moment.
I carried her inside of me for 40 weeks. I delivered her after only a few hours of induced labor. I've been there for her, loving her and teaching her for the last 2 1/2 years. But right now, I'm not convinced she's mine.