“Which one of us is going to Wegmans tomorrow for milk and yogurt?”
The family should be here in about two hours for brunch, which means two things:
- I should start cooking.
- I’m not going grocery shopping today.
Not that you could get into Wegmans in Fairmount, what with the endless line of last-minute shoppers picking up flowers from the displays in the front of the store. As it is, Panera Bread in Fairmount was dirty with fathers and children picking up breakfast for the assorted mothers on Syracuse’s West Side.
The Wife collected her gifts this morning (including her own Panera breakfast), but her real present came last night.
Regular readers of Al Dente know about our struggles with Celiac disease and our toddler. She was a picky eater from the first moments out of the womb, a trait made worse by the ensuing stomachaches and diarrhea that preceded the Celiac diagnosis. For the past couple of years, she has subsisted on a steady diet of crackers, breakfast food, yogurt and milk.
Every so often, The Wife makes something new for The Kid to see what happens. If nothing else, it exposes her to another type of food. The Kid’s Saturday evening dinner was French toast and two gluten-free chicken nuggets. The Kid took a bite of the chicken nugget. And another. And another. Then she moved on to the second one, asking The Wife what they were. She told her and The Kid proclaimed: “I love chicken nuggets!”
We couldn’t microwave them fast enough. She ate nine of them. The Wife cried. I kissed The Kid. And one of us is shooting back to Aldi today to see if they have more.
The Wife got a bag of Lune Chocolat from the fridge this morning, but the real Mother’s Day came on a plastic dinner plate last night.