Jack is officially on the Endangered Species list. Why? you ask. (Or, for those intimately familiar with the Castle goings-on, what specifically this time? is the query).
Patty Jenny Across the Street made lumpia for me to deep-fry and I did. I served up yet another in a dramatic world-record consecutive dinner menu with foccacia, gnocchi, salad, fancy-pants vegies, and something to appeal to the less-healthy: lumpia. Only God's most nearly perfect non-bakery item.
Lumpia is a Filipino version of the egg roll. Patty Jenny had stuffed it with yummy meat and minutely chopped carrots and other goodies. It may be this uncertain ingredient list that offended Jack's sense of order, sense of democracy, and sense of self-preservation.
Well, Jack decided to show his ass by refusing to eat. Jamie played peacemaker, trying to alter the inevitable course that invariably leads to:
WWF BATTLE OF WILLS:
Jack (the challenger)
VS
Mom (the belt-holder)
Yessiree, in front of my in-laws, I drew the line in the plentiful sand of the Castle (actually, I think it was focaccia crumbs since only adults seem to have mastered that very sophisticated motor skill of using a dustpan and broom).
I required him to eat a single bite of the most delicious lumpia ever. Fried with love by his very own mother.
He was a Drama King. He whined. He cried. He begged. He raged against the storm. He finally ate a microscopic bite with his teeth and then rolled his eyes to the back of his skull and super-slow-motion-audio gagged and yes...
Back it came. On himself.
Hell hath no fury like a woman deprived of another helping of lumpia. "That could have been enjoyed by me!" Likewise, hell hath no fury like a mother REALLY sick and tired of running the laundrymat.
I believe I then threatened to set the timer for 10 minutes per stretch to inform him of his many, many shortcomings. I figured I had enough for 3 hours of such seminar lessons (i.e., at least 18 mini-tirades). Starting first with one about how I didn't think Dad would want come home and see this type of behavior. Blah-blah-blah, something about me flying to meet him in DC (hello, Patty Kiki) with Lucy and have Grandparents K---a watch their collective sorry asses while I had a vacation. Really the kind of venomous diatribe that every daughter-in-law should plan to have with their spouse not home to run interference. A proud moment offset by my 2nd child's supreme assinine-ness.
Made him clean it up (having had enough behavior therapists over the last decade and knowing that over-correction is a reasonable, natural consequence for heinous acts against the Queen). Then...
For added gamesmanship worthy of Don King and his hair, I pulled out the three generations of Nintendo and a newer game card and showed my cards across the table.
I asked Grandpa Dan for a hammer for the added visual effect, but even a Marine grunt from Hue City thought that might be torturous.
Grandma Susan, however, was game to chime in on the every-10-minutes lecture circuit and I believe (since Jamie had already talked about the starving African children who drink dirty water and Jack offered to send his gnocchi air mail) she went on about how her son was sacrificing for us to buy this good food. (Trader Joe's would surely cease to exist without the Sand Crab's defense of freedom to import gnocchi!)
With 2 grandparents and one loony mother itching to hold a fire sale of Nintendo products on eBay (having come to her financial senses before wielding a feel-good hammer), Jack slowly---oh so slowly and painfully--ingested the remaining lumpia. With catsup. Lots of catsup.
As he ate the last bit of filling that Grandpa Dan (recognizing the crazy-eye of the Queen when she commented on how much had been spilled in the name of forced consumption) had scooped up for Jack, yes he did, Jack said, "that wasn't so bad."
Next time we have BATTLE OF WILLS: THE REMATCH, I'm replacing catsup with Redi-Whip! Clearly, any of them will eat anything when there's enough non-dairy whipped topping involved.
No comments:
Post a Comment