Tuesday happened to be grocery shopping day this week.
Not the usual day. I like to get it done on Mondays. But, after being down with the [ugh] stomach flu this weekend, the first day I could drag myself into the store was Tuesday.
With Luke and Ethan in tow.
And I could tell (as the pleads for doughnuts began in aisle one of Deliverance Mart), that it was going to be a long trip.
The pleas for doughnuts were only preceded by the pleas for french fries (at 10 am). Those pleas began again as we were leaving the store. And, weakened, I relented because it was close to lunch.
I pulled into the drive thru ready to order a large french fries, when the voice from the back seat spoke: I want to lick a chicken.
Now, let me tell you. . . .I am the one who sings all the wrong words to every song. Not because I don't know them, but because I somehow always hear the wrong words (case in point: the song What's on your mind by the Information Society. . .you know, the one from the 80s with Spock saying pure energy. . .well, for the longest time, I thought he was saying Dreck. . . Yeah, well. . . ). So, I wasn't really sure that was what I heard. . . .
I want to lick a chicken. I want to try it.
[Ah-ha. Licking something has become synonymous with trying something in our house. And now the quick mental calucations begin. He never asks to try anything. . . And he never wants to eat anything but goldfish and cereal. . . Do I really want to waste the money on chicken he won't eat? Especially because my stomach was still feeling sour and there was no way I was eating them. . . . . But, if he wants to try them, then that has to be some sort of victory. . .] Sure! Let's get some nuggets.
And. . . Do you know what? Not only did he lick one. But he declared he liked it. [Which isn't unusual. . . he has also taken rat bites of many assorted candies, cookies, brownies, carrots, apples and strawberries, for these "delicious" and "liked" foods to end up in the trash, uneaten. . .]
Imagine my shock, when I pulled into Target's parking lot to find a nugget all gone. Poof! Disappeared.
Eaten. . .
Yeah. I think I brought home the wrong kid from Walmart.
But, that kid looks amazingly like my Luke. So, I'll keep him. [And, for the record, he ate a second nugget while we were shopping in Target.]