My older son likes to make lists. He started when he was young, and, apparently, he’s continued to this day. I know that because yesterday when we asked him what he’d like to eat for dinner, he whipped out a neatly folded piece of paper featuring his signature small scrawl and handed it to me.
It was his list of favorite (and acceptable) places to eat. It opens with sit-down restaurants where he can enjoy boneless buffalo bites, chicken fingers, dry hamburgers, hot dogs, and honey-seared chicken. There’s not much variety in his choices; he’s pretty picky. The second line includes eateries with drive-throughs. The third, obviously, are pizza places, while the final set is for desserts.
You’ll notice that “home” and “Mom’s cooking” are nowhere to be found in his log. He hates when I whip up my few standard meals, dismissing them with a withering “this isn’t as good as eating out.”
Apparently, I’ve made his “places to avoid” list!