Noodle Boy is a nickname my son had when he was a tiny guy and I started this blog. His nickname changes all the time. (Don't worry, we keep his real name the same.) He is completely awesome. Read on and see for yourself!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Leftovers

Jon hates eating leftovers.

Actually he just hates the word "leftovers". If I tell him we're eating spaghetti two nigths in a row, he's fine. If I say we're having leftovers, he has a fit. "I can't eat leftovers! I hate those guys!"

So I have to be careful with my wording. I have explained that leftovers are the same yummy things he liked the night before but it doesn't really seem to sink in. He just has some crazy notion that leftovers are terrible. Even when I am cleaning up after supper and he sees me putting perfectly delicious food into containers he doesn't grasp that that's what leftovers are: food that's leftover from supper. Whatever, I give up on that battle.

Jon's favorite breakfast used to be oatmeal. We ate it damn-near everyday for months.
(I'm going somewhere with this, just read.)
I personally can't stand the stuff anymore, but I make it whenever he asks because it's healthy and hot and that's what moms do.

At some point I think the oatmeal requests started coming out of habit instead of an actual want for that gloppy mess, because he started eating less and less of it when I would make it and I would end up throwing a lot of it in the trash. Which is sort of a pet peeve of mine. So I gave him the "eat what you take, there are starving kids everywhere, don't waste food" song and dance and hoped that would be the end of the oatmeal for awhile.

No such luck.

The next morning I was making oatmeal. Again. I knew I couldn't eat oatmeal another day so I threw back a cup of coffee and just made some for Jon. Then I went downstairs to do the old washer-dryer-switcheroo on the laundry and when I came back up he was done. Clean bowl! No wasted food! Sweet!

What I didn't see, until I got home and was doing laundry that night, was that instead of eating the oatmeal, he put it in "tainers".

In his bottom drawer was one of those little M&M guys with the antlers that came in Jon's stocking (emptied of the M&M's of course) and OVERFLOWING with oatmeal. Alongside it was a zipper pouch that I keep chapstick and band aids in to carry in my purse. Also overflowing with oatmeal.

"JON. COME HERE. NOW." I have no control over my Loud Mom Voice. It just comes out sometimes.

Stomp stomp stomp.
"Yeah, Mom?"

"WHAT IN THE HECK IS THIS?!" Still with the Loud Mom Voice.

"It's my leftovers. I put 'em in tainers for tomorrow."

Now, how do I yell at that? He thought he was being a little saver.

"HONEY, ONLY MOM SAVES LEFTOVERS. GOT IT? NOT YOU. EVER. UNDERSTAND? THAT WAS VERY SWEET OF YOU BUT PLEASE DON'T EVER DO IT AGAIN. OKAY? EVER."

"Got it, Mom. I can go watch my shows now?"

I threw away the leftovers.

And I also threw away the rest of the oatmeal in the cupboard. My apologies to the starving children.

1 comment:

Reverend Awesome said...

These stories are the best! HAHA!

Your house is like a sitcom. Or, your stories are good enough to be a sitcom. I don't know, but I love them.