Last night for dinner, I made one of those Facebook recipes. Old Fashioned Goulash. It was pretty good. It may have been better if I could have found Goya Adobo seasoning at Hannaford, but alas, I could not.
Knowing this Hungarian goodness would probably not be favorited by the boys, I cooked the rest of the elbow macaroni on the side. I didn’t have enough of the Hanny’s brand, so I supplemented with a box of Barilla I had in the pantry.
True to form, Jake didn’t want anything to do with dinner. As he began working through his bowl of plain pasta, he noticed the differences between the two pasta brands. The Barilla is textured and the Hanny’s brand is not. Jake declared to Beth that he could “taste the lines” on his macaroni. He didn’t like the taste of the lines, and therefore couldn’t/wouldn’t eat the pasta.
He NEEDED a can of soup. Beth acquiesced and sent him to the kitchen to fend for himself. He got his soup on the stove and I took the younger two to tumbling. When I returned, I heard the rest of the story.
Beth served Jake his soup from the saucepan (he doesn’t touch “hot”) and set him up with a bowl and a spoon. We pick up spare spoons here and there. I still haven’t figured out why. Extra spoons, random Tupperware lids, but a deficit of left socks. Family life, right?
Anyway, back to the tale.
Beth gave Jake a rather ornamental spoon and he stopped her up quickly. “What is this? I can’t use… *holds up spoon…this! I prefer the one with lines!” He actually used the word PREFER in a sentence. Correctly.
So, to wrap up – Jake doesn’t like the taste of lines in his pasta, but he prefers to have them on his spoons.