Lunch

Which child is pickier:  The child who will eat peanut butter on anything, or the child who wants a turkey, gouda and fig paste sandwich on baguette for lunch?  I think it is a tie.  If there were a metaphor to describe the differences between my two kids, this would be it.

For background:

The Big E = peanut butter

The Boy = turkey, gouda and fig paste on baguette

The child who eats peanut butter always has something to eat.  She never tires of the same thing over and over and over again.  The peanut butter child is steadfast and predictable, but also a little stubborn.  Her favorite restaurant is the Ram in U Village, and is hesitant to try someplace new.  As Rick said to Isla in Casablanca, "We'll always have Paris."  For the Big E, she'll always have peanut butter.  She follows in Ishiro's mold, the former Mariners baseball player who eats the same food every single day to maximize predictability in his life.  If it works, why knock it?

Peanut Butter cookies made by the Big E.  She is bringing them to a potluck with a sign that reads:  Contains: peanuts, eggs, dairy and gluten.  She considered topping them with bacon to please the carnivores in the group.

The Boy gets points for being adventurous and trying fig paste in the first place.  While he gets points for being adventurous (this was the same child who tried a raw oyster in Tofino), he can be rather stubborn and gets in ruts where nothing can make him happy.  Some days, he has something in mind that he wants to eat for lunch, only it doesn't exist, we don't have it in the house or it would take more time to make than we have before the bus arrives.  For the Boy, variety is the spice of life, as long it isn't too spicy, the bread is the right texture, and it is gouda, not provolone, which smells bad.

The Big E would eat dinner at the Ram every night, if she could.  The Boy once asked how much we would save in a month if we didn't go out to eat.  We told him, and he paled.  Now he thinks we should try to eat dinner at home for the rest of September.  The Boy will some day be a millionaire, yet will never spend a penny, poor soul.  Given my reluctance to cook, this is will be hard.  Last month, they both revolted against eating penne with red sauce, my go-to-in-a-pinch dinner.  They made up songs about why I shouldn't make it again.  On that, they agree.