Wordful This Ain't a Restaurant Wednesday

These kids have been trying my patience.

The bloody ingrates little people (the littlest one in particular) around here have taken to rebelling against my exciting-creative-to-be-appreciated-as-the-stroke-of-genius-they-truly-are culinary exploits.



I mean, is there something wrong with refried beans?



Are refried beans so revolting, so unappetizing, so unbearable that one needs to reject them in part or in whole by launching them, and the spoon to which they are attached, across the room so that they stick to the wall with such finality that I would be so inclined to shy away from ever presenting them as a viable form of sustenance in the future?



Seriously.



Get over yourself kiddo, you're Mexican (at least partly), so it is your civic duty to eat, and enjoy, refried beans and all of their cousins in the bean family.

I'll dress 'em up and make 'em purdy (you know, with cheese and sauce and stuff), but you're gonna eat 'em.



Why? Why, you ask?!

Because I said so, that's why.

And, because you seem to have taken personal offense with the idea of growing molars. Therefore, until you lift your self imposed molar moratorium, I will continue to present you with soft, gumable, foods. No one is choking on my watch, Mister, and I SO mean that!

P.S. Please stop asking me for chewing gum. Grow some teeth and then we'll talk.