The little guy and I were at the store today. I happened to see a display of those amazing little pies they used to sell in the 70s. The ones with the pastry outside and the awesome chocolate pudding ones were my favorite. And there was one right there.
Being the great, health conscious mom I am, I insisted that I get one for my kid. He didn't argue with me.
Once in the car he tore the package open, took a bite and said, "Hmmmm, there wasn't any chocolate in that bite.
Me: "Take another bite. You're gonna love it!" And he bit it.
Little guy: "This is not good mom."
Me: "What?!?!" I looked at the pudding insides of that tasty treat and I swear it must've been on that shelf since the 70s.
He rolled down his window and spit the chewed up bite out. Now, my kid is amazing at so many things. He's an amazing athlete, can ride a unicycle like it's nothin', can design and shoot spectacular rockets, but the kid cannot spit any distance to save his life. So...yup...that chewed up bite went straight down instead of forward and landed on my car door...and proceeded to ever so slowly ooze its way down, down, down.
Me: "That's going to be really disgusting if it flies off of my car and hits another one."
Little guy beaming: "They'll just think it was a really big bird."
I love how he can take something that tasted horrible and make it something positive in his eyes.
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