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A Peanut Butter and Mustard Sandwich

I have failed as a parent.  Really.

I tried.  And I tried.  But I failed.

You might think it a tad melodramatic to consider oneself a failure so early into the parental process, but what else can one say?

I gave in on the chili dogs.  I understood the love of pizza.  I recognized that most 5 year olds (and some adults- those whose parents also failed) don’t appreciate a good salad or broccoli and cauliflower.

I get the “no crusts on my sandwich.”  I see the allure of the chicken nugget (even if I don’t particularly like them myself).  I even like a bowl of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese myself.  I will order a taco with meat only for my son.

But today, he crossed that line.

“Tell Daddy what you had for a snack,” the Dear Wife told Samuel.

A smile crept across his face.

“Go on, tell him.”

“No, you,” he countered.

Was it Oreos dipped in peanut butter?  A banana and mint chocolate chip ice cream sundae?  Banana bread covered in chocolate sauce?  (Not that I approve or like any of the above, I was just trying to figure it out.)

I doubted that he requested a salad with egg whites and tomatoes (that would be pure fantasy).

“Tell me,” I said.

His smile widened.

The Dear Wife spoke up.  “A peanut butter and mustard sandwich.”

He giggled.  I gagged.


“Not only did he want that, he made it by himself, and he ate every crumb.”

“Are you serious?”  I asked.

He finally spoke.  “It was gooood.”

I am speechless.  I have failed.

Categories: Random
  1. Tonya
    July 3, 2010 at 10:25 am

    WOW….that’s really bizarre…although for some strange reason I’m tempted to try it…just to see what on earth that combination would taste like.

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