Tanya, on the other hand, is judicious when it comes to food. She's the healthiest eater I've ever met. She stays away from sweets and carbohydrates most of the time. She eats when she's hungry—what a concept!—and doesn't when she's not. She also drinks when she's thirsty and sleeps when she's tired, by the way. The Dalai Lama would be proud.
She also doesn't think its a good habit to eat your kids' leftovers. A) it sets a bad example by overeating, and B) it's gross.
Yet I doubt that I'm the only dad in the world who halts his children from their place-clearing duties to scrape their leftovers onto his plate before the dishes get deposited in the dishwasher. Anyone with me on this one?
I wasn't sure if my kids ever thought this was a big deal. They don't say much when I give the old "kids are starving in Africa" speech, though I firmly believe in that method of guilt stimulation. And they don't seem to bat an eyelash anymore when they see me scarf down the perfectly good food they've left on their plates: a small chunk of overdone steak, a potato skin, or the remains of a half-eaten chicken leg.
There's good meat left on there!
But after we took Tanya out for mother's day a couple of weeks ago, I realized that maybe I've been going a bit overboard. Ella, after putting her leftover refried beans and some salad into a to-go box, snatched a pen and wrote on the top of the styrofoam container:
Ella and Sophia (complete with flowers and peace signs, of course). Dad is Not Allowed to Eat This.
I've gotten in trouble before from Tanya for taking her leftover chicken wings to work without asking, or eating the remains of a turkey sandwich Ella had from Jimmy Johns. So I left the container in the fridge for about five days, eyeing it every time I pulled out the milk or some other leftover-filled tupperware. My mouth watered at the potential taste of refried beans with my breakfast eggs, sprinkled with hot sauce; or maybe a quick bean, cheese and veggie wrap on my way out the door to an errand. I didn't even touch the shredded lettuce and tiny diced tomatoes that had become slightly soggy. But for Ella's edict, I would have.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I asked Ella: "Are you EVER planning on eating your leftovers?"
"No. You can have them," she replied, as if she had no sense of my pain.
They tasted so good.
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