[Written Sunday] Although there was more work this morning, I left at 11:30 and went to the mall and got waxed, dyed, and cut. And a kickass pair of pants to go with my fabulous shoes for my presentation. So, mission accomplished and I feel better.
Meanwhile, Carl took Noah swimming – even better. For both of them.
On my way back I stopped at the store to get a few necessities (we leave for the Briars on Thursday, what would be Emily’s 5th (!) birthday, so didn’t need a full week of stuff). And right in front of the cash registers they had a massive pile of Wagon Wheels, on sale. In case you don’t know what these are they are probably the most artificial “cookie” you can possibly purchase like, in the entire world. I only peered at the ingredient list with my eyes shut but I’m pretty sure it goes: HFCS, red dye, artificial everthing, artery clogging goop, and cancer-causing tastee.
But you know, they were 99 cents and I was feeling weak. My inner children managed to convince me that since Noah is alive he should live! And have a Wagon Wheel! The fact that there would then be some left in the box for MY body is just an unpleasant side effect.
Generally with food we have at home we have a 95/5 rule. 95 per cent of what I purchase at the store is wholesome, whole food. It’s not all lentils and barley, but I do my best. But then there’s the 5% which is how we have occasionally stocked the odd can of Zoodles, box of Goldfish, and pack of flavoured yoghurt. (Ice cream, if the good stuff, counts as wholesome. Shut up.)
Anyways, so we did buy the Wagon Wheels and bring them back. After some rolling of eyes (Lyria, Carl) and some guilt (me/the system) and such, Carl and I did say in our own ways some variation on “and for dessert, you can have a Wagon Wheel!”
So Noah got all excited and we brought out the individually wrapped treats and opened his and he bit into it and…
… spit it out.
And asked for more cauliflower to get the taste out of his mouth.
I’m reminded that sometimes, even if you are kind of in that dark zone where you pass on your family’s (mild) dysfunctionality… your kids end up having more innate sense than that.
No more Wagon Wheels.
Ha!
We’re on a Chocolate Creme Oreos tear these days. I’m the woman with the cart full of organic veggies, near-organic meat, fresh baked sourdough bread, and OREOS. Though they don’t have HFCS in them. I checked.
Ours are those little white sugar donuts, horrible things. Both our sons shunned them. Alas they are fond of Double Stuff Oreos and whole milk. I told myself milk was a nod at healthy.
Margret