Mistakes

People who have known my husband Declan for a while know about his severe food neuroses. He likes almost nothing. Most attempts to get him to try something new are met with a tantrum worthy of a three year old. So occasionally I try to trick him. It never works. His taste buds are so finely calibrated I'm pretty sure they should be studied in a laboratory.

Even with all this knowledge, I still try. Last week it was fat-free hot dogs. Now, granted, I can't blame him. They were pretty bad and not of any sort of consistency I'm familiar with in the food world. But it was worth a shot. It took one bite until I was busted. I saw the tell-tale signs right away. Furrowed brow. Study of the food object. And then a questioning look at me. At which point I crumble and admit my attempt at deception. And promise never to try to feed him fat-free hot dogs again. And we discuss whether or not I lied to him by not telling him what kind of hot dogs they were. But I argue that I didn't tell him what kind of steak we had the night before and that wasn't an issue. Though it would have been if they were fat-free steaks.

At the store the next day I found Nathan's Famous hot dogs. Declan loves them and has eaten them for four meals in a row now. I'm happy he likes them. I'm not happy that he's going to eat them until he's sick of them. Because he does that. Then he never wants to eat them again. Just another of his food neuroses.

Well, I'll start off my blog by giving credit to the fine folks at despair.com for allowing me to rip off the title of my blog. Actually, they didn't as much allow me as I just did it.