Sometimes I really worry about my offspring. I think they’re defective. Perhaps they’re changelings, left by some strange other-worldly creature and mine are in some alternate dimension wondering why they don’t like the same things their baby-swapping parents like.
Why do I think this?
They don’t like pie.
Who in their right mind does not like pie? I can understand being partial to a certain kind or perhaps not liking pumpkin or sweet potato pie. Those are somewhere between sweet and savory, depending on the recipe.
Really, though, how can they look at these and say ‘no thanks’?
That’s not the only evidence I have. I adore a host of vegetables, like a great deal of others, with a very short list of uh, okay that’s gross. I had to trick mine into eating broccoli by calling them little trees. Not even coating them in cheese worked. Green beans had to bounce across plates and say, “No, don’t eat me!” in a high sqeaky voice (voiced by yours truly) in order for them to eat them. Only Mr. Smarty Pants has finally decided that cantelope is edible. What’s with them?
I could perhaps agree with Mr. Smarty-Pants that I’m the weird one if it were just the vegetable thing, but PIE?
Of course, the upside of having strange changeling children is that I get more pie!