Bebe set dinner plates in front of her children. As usual, she balanced the fine line between what was healthy and what they would eat.
“What’s on my hamburger helper?” said Tiffany, her precocious four year old.
“It’s shredded cheese,” said Bebe.
“Eew,” said Tiffany.
“What do you mean ‘eew’? It’s five year old cheddar. You begged for it at the grocery store yesterday. You said it was your favorite,” said Bebe.
“I changed my mind. I don’t like it anymore,” said Tiffany, pushing the plate away.
“You haven’t even tried it.”
“It smells gross.”
“It’s just cheese,” said Bebe. She could feel the balance tipping against her supper.
“Yeah, who wants to eat something older than you are,” said Colt, Tiffany’s older brother.
“It is not,” said Tiffany.
“Duh, it’s five years old. You’re only four,” said Colt.
“Colt, stop that,” scolded Bebe. “Tiffany, everything on that plate is food you like. Cheese, pasta…”
“Dead cow,” said Colt.
“Cow!?!” shrieked Tiffany. “Cute little cows like the ones we see going to gramma and grampa’s?”
“Yep,” said Colt proudly.
“Mommy, it isn’t true,” said Tiffany.
“The meat on your plate is beef. Colt, be quiet,” said Bebe.
“Where does beef come from?” said Tiffany.
“The grocery store. Beef’s made at the grocery store,” said Bebe. She was still staring at Colt.
“Mommy, I’m not hungry anymore,” said Tiffany.
“Me neither,” said Colt.
Before she could respond, both kids were bounding up stairs to play. Bebe rubbed her eyes with her hands. It was no wonder she had the fattest dog in the neighborhood.