Sunday, April 24, 2005


Tonight was the first of what I expect will be many lessons in famly-specific etiquette (FSE).

Sidekick was over after a few rigorous loops around the block (Tour-de-Garfield) with only one minor crash into an unsuspecting tree, and we were enjoying the unique and varied dining experience of Sunday leftovers.

The girls were sharing some noodles mixed with other stuff like tomatoes and chicken, which, to their palates were insignifcant in relation to the creamy-noodl-y goodness.

All was copacetic until the FYO started digging into the last portion of the noodles. Well, okay, that was not yet the turning point of the night. While she controled the dish, all was good.

Can I jsut eat out of the [serving] dish?

Sure. That's fine.
There is something so natural and innocent about kids' desires. You almost hate to ruin them with socialization. I imagined her eating her college noodles (i.e. raman) out of the pan. Why dirty a dish? A natural and economical conclusion. And then later, at her wedding reception, grabbing the serving platter into her own hands and licking out the remains. Everyone at her table looking at her in horror. The noodle-juice spilling all over her formerly white strappy gown.

Then Sidekick got interested. MORE Noodles? [Said like "Scoobysnack"?].

When the FYO's natural reaction to Sidekick's spoon entering her personal atmosphere was to kick out her elbow like a Heisman trophy, we knew that it was time to discuss Family-Specific-Dining-Etequette-Numero-Uno, FHB.

According to the Rule of Family Hold Back, when a specific food item has been deemed FHB, under no circumstance will a member of the immediate family (extended if necessary) be found imbibing in said food item.

This rule is a holdover from BioMom's family book of rules. Based on her account, (poor, indeed, but the only thing available to me at the time of this writing) no one dared break the FHB rule. A single look from grandma or grandpa would send BioMom and her three sisters away from the meatballs and brownies and toward the jello-salad.

Understandably, the FYO was nonplussed by the new constraint to her dining experience.

NO!!!!!! ITS. NOT. FAIR!!!!!!!!!!

And yes, this came out of my mouth: Life's not fair.

Apparently, the five-year-old brain has not yet reached that level of cognitive development which recognizes the futility of repitition.

NO!!!!! ITS! NOT!! FAIR!!!

It may not be fair, but those are our family rules.


You'd think she were emaciated.

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