My child is weird.
Not that I'm complaining. I'm just stating a fact here. Sasha is weird.
At work many of the ladies were talking about their children and what the Easter bunny was planning to bring them in their baskets this weekend. Then they turned to me (diligently pecking away at my keyboard), and remembering I have a little one just beginning to understand things, asked what Sasha could expect from the Bunny.
"Elmo and Edamame," I said.
Which began the lecturing on why this was supposed to be a fun day. A little splurge. A day he could get sweets he didn't normally get because it was a SPECIAL day. That I shouldn't be giving him beans. Beans were not fun. Beans were a chore. Beans would ruin it.
But, they don't know my boy.
He still is on his anti-sweets campaign. His version of sneaking into the cookie jar is finding the tubs of freeze-dried fruits and veggies and hiding with them while he stuffs his face with peas, corn, and strawberries.
Yes, my child thinks somehow he's being naughty when he sneaks that stuff. And acts like a normal kid would if they just got handed a big slice of fudge cake when I put some in a bowl for him.
And beans? He loves beans. He needs beans. He wants beans. He has a lot to say about the glory of beans. And beans in little Dora bags ? are just the bee's knees.
While other kids are eating the teeth-rotting goodness of easter candy, my little weirdo will be packing his mouth with soy. And that's just fine with me.
Until, his birthday. And the requests for photos of him with his cake come in...there's no good way to explain the absence of those photos. Somehow, "he doesn't like cake," never seems to work.