At lunch yesterday, I made tuna sandwiches. Allie hates tuna, so I figured I’d have to make her a PB&J, for about the umpteen-millionth time. But when she asked me repeatedly what was for lunch, I just kept quiet. Frankly, she’s the question queen and I feel as if all I do all day long is field questions from her, like an infielder constantly in warm-up’s.
“Mom, what are we having for lunch? Mom? Lunch? What are we having? Why won’t you answer me? Just tell me what we’re having for lunch! What are we having? What are you making? What is that?”
I never stopped opening cans, draining water, scooping tuna and adding mayonnaise.
Finally, she had her own suggestion about what I could be making. “Are you making clam chowder sandwiches?” Allie loves clam chowder and basically anything that swims in the sea. But she claims to hate tuna. Basically because Paul does, I think.
“Yes,” I agreed, seeing a way to finally get her to try it. “Clam chowder sandwiches.”
Paige now joins the conversation, and let me interject here that Paige hates clam chowder, but can read a can. And can’t lie to save her life.
“Paige! We’re having clam chowder sandwiches!” Allie announces excitedly.
Paige looks at me with the most confused expression on her face. Like, what in heaven’s name is the crazy one spouting now. I elbow her hard in the ribs and say out of the side of my mouth quietly, “Shut. Up.”
She jumps right in. “Clam chowder sandwiches. Ugh.”
Allie happily takes off to the table, the proud owner of her very first clam chowder sandwich. I wonder how it will go. I give Paige her sandwich and she really hams it up by marching to the table and saying, “Clam chowder is so disgusting. I can’t believe you’re making me eat this!”
Now Allie starts making yummy noises, basically just to gross her sister out and inform her how much she’s enjoying her lunch.
Now Stephen (my step-Dad) comes into the mix. He grabs the bowl of left over tuna, a fork, and digs into the bowl. Allie says, “How do you like your clam chowder, Papa?”
He stops mid-chew. Glances at me. Looks down at his bowl. Then to Allie. Before he can say anything, I pipe in quickly, “Allie LOVES clam chowder sandwiches.”
Paige is now hysterical. There’s no getting her back. Her laughter has passed funny and is bordering on suspicious. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she’s laughing. If I were her, I’d be wondering how much of this crap I’ve pulled on her. “Oh yeah?” Stephen says. “Does Allie like tuna sandwiches?”
“No she does not,” I reply back. Allie holds on small square of sandwich (Allie likes her sandwich cut into four equal squares, Paige, two triangles) and announces she is on her last piece, and gobbles it up quickly.
So, I guess we’ll be having a lot more clam chowder sandwiches around here. Or Allie will anyway. The rest of us will have about the same amount of them we’ve always had.
Parenting level: Expert