“What’s that?” Laylee asked with an upturned nose, pointing to Wanda’s uneaten peanut butter sandwich languishing on the table.
“It’s the story of my life,” I replied, “My autobiography on a plate.”
Because I spend my life making food for people, sometimes very specific food like this particular sandwich, food that is asked for, and needed for things like sustaining life and strengthening eyeballs, food that is licked and discarded.
That plate says so much.
Laylee gave me the “Mom You’re Weird” look and moved on with her day.
Later that night I asked her if she liked the lunch I’d packed her for school.
“Oh. Sorry, Mom! I forgot to eat it and bought lunch at the cafeteria.”
Garbage can open thy gaping maw. We have another offering.
And don’t you just love how they fail to offer up this information until you ask for it? Makes your efforts that feel even less appreciated. It is just matter-of-fact, oops, I forgot. Happens at our house, too.