Our daughter is a picky eater. She likes what she likes (toast, buttered noodles, brownies, meat) and little else (most plants). She also has a sense of humor about food and eating.
A few days ago, the boys were talking about our recent train ride to Mall of America and brought up Rainforest Cafe, which no Thorp but Emma has ever entered (for a friend's birthday party). The boys were speculating about the entrees, and Brendan -- recalling Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, no doubt -- asked if they serve monkey brains.
"I'm not sure," said Emma, deadpan, "but not on the kids menu!"
Then this morning, she and I were eating English muffins together. "Emma," I said sternly, "you've got butter on your little finger. You know what you have to do now." Then I mimed licking my finger and savoring the white fatty goodness.
She smiled. "I'll do that when I'm finished," she said. "I'm gonna make sure there's lots of butter on it!"
Labels: Bren, food, kids, Rose