I love vegetables. I really do. Brussels sprouts, peppers, salad of any and all kinds: I just can't get enough. And around these here parts, we eat meat maybe once, twice a month. We like beans, bean and more bean, plus tofu thrown in for a little variety. Why is it, then, that I am absolutely powerless to resist the call of the almighty drive-thru french fry?
It may actually be my greatest failing as a parent, except for the time that Elijah fell off the bed. I mean, I knew it was bad when we drove through McDonald's this week on the way to the Arboretum. (At 10:30 am, no less. For shame. But what's a half-starved breastfeeding Mommy to do?) Anyway, we're driving away from McD's, and Elijah says, "Mommy, do we have some nah-kins? Because we need them for the cheese." Yes, that's right. We go to the drive thru and Elijah expects not just fries, but cheese fries. I am a bad mom.
In my defense, Elijah has very positive associations with spinach, carrots, and most especially mushrooms. I don't even have to cover them with liquid cheese-food. I bet that would be delicious, though.