My child can't stand my cooking. He'd rather starve. The Dr. Phil technique simply does not work in my household. Maybe I should contact him and go on his show...
Here's where the Chihuahua comes in handy. He, bless him, loves my amaranth peanut butter gruel and can't seem to get enough of it.
I feel obligated to feed my child somehow. That's how we ended up at Wendy's, after I had forewarned the child that I would be lecturing loudly on the nutritional travesty of fast food while we stood in line. He's good at blocking me out, so he agreed.
We must have hit rush hour at Wendy's, for I ended up with a sizeable audience of bug-eyed people for my lecture. One of them even asked a question: she wanted to know the difference between saturated and trans fat. I gleefully launched into my fat diatribe, one of my alltime favorites.
When I paused to take a breath, I noticed that a couple of fellow customers who had been pretending not to hear stole quick, furtive glances at me during my silence. Good. They were listening.
I concluded my presentation by quizzing my child. Being the bottom-line type, I asked him to identify the most healthy item on the menu. His response caught me by surprise- he named something I didn't even know Wendy's offered- the fruit plate. Sure enough, upon examining the overhead menu I learned that it was a plate of fresh fruit. Zero fat. Smart kid.
Inching closer to the counter, I overheard a senior citizen feebly ordering the fruit plate, with water for her drink. She glanced at my child and winked. He rolled his eyes, drooling for an animal patty with a side of trans fat.
Suddenly, a pudgy, befuddled-looking man awkwardly elbowed his way out of the line and exited the restaurant.