Bo is a picky eater– he always has been. Right now, his tastes are running towards hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets and bananas. We will ask him what he wants to eat for dinner and invariably he replies “macaroni and cheese, please.” Crazy kid. This conversation took place not too long ago at the local steakhouse during dinner with Nana, the Hubs, Mo, Bo and myself.
Setting: Walking through the buffet line.
Me: Okay. Bo, what do you want.
Bo: I don’t know.
Me: (listing suggestions)
Bo: That’s my favorite!
Me: What’s your favorite?
Me: It is? Have you ever had steak?
Bo: No siree. But, when I grow up it will be my favorite.
Me: Oh really?
Me: What about some green beans?
Bo: That’s my favorite too!
Me: It is?
Bo: Yep. When I get big.
Me: If you could cook anything in the world, what would you cook?
Bo: Steak. That’s my favorite!
Me: Are you sure?
Bo: Yep. I could make it and put it in the fridge until I am big. It would be deeeee-licious.
How can you argue with that logic?
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