We had a nice time today - very informative and eye-opening when it came to nutritional stuff, so it was great. Jaime hosted a playdate and invited her friend Denise who is also a nutritionist. Denise talked to us about the foods we serve our kiddos (and ourselves!) and reviewed the basic vitamins we should all be concerned with in our daily lives. I was horrified when I mentally took stock of my pantry and cabinets in the kitchen. I swear, after vacation (it's always "after something", isn't it?), I'm revamping our entire diet in this household. Trader Joe's will be loving me, that's for sure. I'm in the mood for a change and I have my cross hairs set on our eating habits. Pauly WILL NOT be happy. Sorry PJK.
Jaime had a nice variety of snackies on her table for us to munch on while Denise spoke: her homemade salsa (so pretty and yummy!) & a great, fresh veggie tray with nice peppers, grape tomatoes, cukes, and baby carrots. Why am I so crazed over Jaime's crudite, you ask? Well, maybe it's because my son mistook Michael's poor little finger for a baby carrot at one point during the play date. (At least that's what I'm going to say from now on after this confessional/blog is over.) Let me set the scene for anyone out there in cybercity who's curious as to how/why this happened: we're all sitting there listening to Denise. It's intense because we're learning about how completely gnarly the milk industry is (which is doubly skeevy for me since Zeke drinks about 1/2 gallon a day) when out of the blue we hear an insane noise coming from the dining room that can only be described as illegal. Like, illegal in the sense that OSHA would NOT allow noise at that decibel level to ever be piped into human eardrums - under any circumstances. We jumped up and what do I see? Zeke standing DIRECTLY next to the child who is crying tears of pain. I'm thinking "I know what's next". I asked Zeke what happened and he told me "I bit Michael". Ok, now, I KNOW in my mind he didn't think Michael's finger was a baby carrot, but in my heart??? In my heart, I want my sweet, kind, angelic baby to tell me that he really, really, really thought that little finger was a tender baby carrot. You know the kind - fresh out of the bag, a little moist, just asking to be chomped. But, no. Nope. Not at all. Zeke just simply said he bit Michael's finger because he wanted the toy that Michael had. Why didn't he just TRY to cover his tracks? I wouldn't have pulled out my CSI kit and tested the bite wound on the finger. I wouldn't have even submitted saliva samples. I WOULD HAVE TAKEN HIS WORD FOR IT!!! Not played very well Zeke. You'd make a lousy poker player.
I guess when it's all said and done, there's nothing left to say or do. That's a famous saying by my all-knowing Dad. When I hear it, it rings so true. I apologized, offered Neosporin and super-cool Band-aids, but, well, I couldn't take the bite away as much as I would have liked to. I know these things happen and boys will be boys, but next time, Zeke, let's stick with the baby carrots.