Lunch Time? Not On My Watch!

One of the most iconic scenes in the movie A Christmas Story features a Ralphie’s little brother refusing to eat his Meatloaf. Ralphie mentions that in every family there is a child that simply refuses to eat. Recently that child in my family has been my two year old.

I am not proud of my work history as it is rife with many roles in the food service industry. Not that it is not a fine and noble profession, but I stunk at it.  That being said, I have, against my will, developed the ability to put together a pretty damn handsome lunch platter.

Note the cheese hashtag

I go all out which, admittedly is a little ridiculous considering that a good portion of the time I am only using said platter to feed myself and a toddler. I personally would be content eating out of a glad bag as long as the food tasted decent. The two year old is less than impressed by this presentation as 9 times out of 10 she hardly looks at the food and when she does, it is quickly followed by a demand for something else.

The following is an approximation of how conversations in my home go around lunch time. You may notice that I have altered the toddler’s speech pattern and vocabulary. This is done for two reasons. First of all, toddler lisp is adorable to listen to but annoying to read. Secondly, it’s funnier this way.

Dad: Lunch time!

Kid: Father, I would prefer to continue viewing Bubble Guppies.

Dad: I know but we’ve already watched some TV today and now we need to eat and then take a nap.

Kid: Father, I am not tired.

Dad: I know you don’t think you’re tired, but you didn’t eat any of the eggs or toast or bacon that you had me make for breakfast. After we eat lunch then we have to take a nap.

Kid: About this lunch, what have you prepared?

Dad: Apples, crackers, cheese, and carrot sticks, just like you asked.

Kid: I tire of this lunch, I desire pizza.

Dad: We don’t have pizza.

Kid: I desire pizza.

Dad: But you asked me for apples and crackers and cheese, so that is what I made.

Kid: Pizza please.

Dad: If we aren’t going to have lunch then we should just go take a nap.

Kid: Father, I am NOT TIRED. I WANT to watch Bubble GUPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIES.

Dad: How about we eat lunch?

Kid: I want pizza.

Dad: …

Kid: I would also like to watch Bubble Guppies.

Dad: It’s time for lunch.

Kid: And Bubble Guppies.

Dad: Sigh, the TV is off, but you can watch more after your nap.

Kid: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Dad: Can we have a couple of bites?

Kid: GUUUUUUUUPIEEEEEEEES! Plate toss

Dad: Oh kid, that makes me sad, now we have to pick up all this food.

Kid: Noooooooooooo.

Dad: Let’s take a nap now.

This exchange typically ends with me scooping the toddler up and dropping her in bed where this conversation begins.

Kid: Father I would like my puppies.

Dad: Ok, here is one, two, three, four, five, stuffed puppies.

Kid: I also would like my rabbits.

Dad: One, two, three rabbits.

Kid: I need books now.

Dad: Kid, I don’t know if there is any room for you in the bed.

Kid: Books please.

Dad: Ok, here is your monkey book.

Kid: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO… robot book.

Dad: I’m not sure where the robot book is.

Kid: ROOOOOOOOBOOOOOOOOT BOOOOOOOOOOK!

Dad: sigh, I’ll go look for it.

Kid: ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz

Since I hate wasting food this commonly ends in me eating my lunch as well as hers. This explains how I am beginning to appear that I am just ending my first trimester. Somehow my child continues to grow despite the fact that I rarely if ever see her eat. This flies in the face of everything I know about nutrition and physics, as I was under the assumption that without an external energy source (food) a child would not grow. I have come to two conclusions, either my child is a mutant and will soon become master of the world through use of her super powers. Or she has found my secret stash of Snickers bars and is sustained by the snack that satisfies. You will excuse me now, I must replenish my stash.

L&P

Not the Worst Thing I Have Done, But Close

I must admit that I have not always been the beacon of special needs advocacy that you now know and love.  True I have always had a soft spot for those with special needs.  I have also always respected those that struggle alongside the special needs population so it should come as no surprise that I fell in love with my wife and shortly there after with fatherhood and parenting a child with special needs.

But as I previously mentioned, these skills needed to be honed.  In my defense, my heart was in the right place, even if my head was lodged squarely in my ass.

Enter Prince.

Not that one

I have roughly 15 years of food service experience.  In that time I can tell you that there are several types of individuals that seem to gravitate to different fields of the food service industry.  Those that are very personable and organized, (and occasionally gay) seem to become servers.  Individuals that have criminal records tend to work in the kitchen.  Psychopaths tend toward management.  Prince was a dishwasher.

Dishwashers are usually one or several of the following; alcoholic, special needs, teenagers, migrant workers.

Prince is an African American gentleman from Louisiana.  He has a thick accent, a fairly oddly shaped head, and worked as a dishwasher.  Prince and his brother Kenny both worked with me at a restaurant which will remain unnamed.  For months I worked with Prince but had minimal interaction with him as I was a server and we usually worked different shifts.  When I did talk to Prince he would talk about going to school.  I assumed this was a special needs school where he would work on life skills.

One day Prince came to work directly from school. Prince was wearing hospital scrubs.  It slowly began to dawn on me that if an individual with special needs works in a hospital it is not usually a position in which scrubs are necessary.  A terrible terrible feeling began to creep over me as I turned to Prince's brother (who did not have a criminal history to my knowledge) and asked, "Kenny, does your brother have a learning disability or something?" (Kenny's accent was also not nearly as thick as his brothers.)
"No? Why?"
"No reason."
I had assumed that due to Prince's oddly shaped noggin, slow manner of speech, and employment as a dishwasher, he was an individual with special needs. The following is a list of things that I ACTUALLY SAID to Prince.
"Great job busing that table buddy!"
"You mopped that floor all by yourself!"
"Wow! You carried 1,2,3,4 glasses and didn't spill a drop!"

 The horror of my situation must have been evident on my face as I uttered the words, "My god I gave him all those hugs."

Kenny (again, who does not have a criminal record) must have pieced together what I was going through and laughed the laugh that only a black guy can laugh at a white guys discomfort as I sputtered my poorly thought out reasoning for believing his brother had special needs.  Even more terrifying was the thought that Prince may have believed that I spoke to him in the manner that I did because I was racist and placating him.

Now if you can tell me how to explain to someone that you spoke to them as if they were a child, not because you are a racist, but because you thought that they were an individual with special needs, then I sir or madam will eat my hat.  Because that is a situation that is fucking impossible to navigate gracefully.

Thankfully shortly after this Prince moved on to another place of employment.  Probably one with less racist white people that treated him like a simpleton.  I don't know if Kenny (again, not a convicted felon), ever explained to his brother that I was not intentionally being an a-hole.  But that I was only accidentally being an a-hole.

The moral of the story dear reader is this; much in the way that you should never assume a woman that looks pregnant is pregnant, never assume a person has special needs until they tell you specifically that they have special needs.  Unless they are blind of course in which case you probably should err on the side of blind and not toss them anything.

In conclusion I would like to apologize to black people, those with special needs, my family, and anyone I may have inappropriately hugged.

L&P