It Was Either That Or BBQ The Kid

The things kids drive you to… I’m the father of three sons, all thankfully grown into kind, productive gentlemen. But back then, there were moments.

First off, I was the stay-at-home parent while my wife worked. I did the cleaning, laundry, school stuff, major home renovations, and cooking. Our first son was easy, quiet, interested in everything, and overall low-maintenance. Having the experience with him convinced my wife and me that we should try for another. [Boy #2] turned out to be the exact opposite: Spawn of Satan, tantrum king, pickiest eater in the world, and extremely high-maintenance. 

One evening, I had prepared a meal. [Boy #2] refused to eat anything with vegetables, so I had to sneak them in. The kids loved my potato pancakes, but little did they know, my stealth ingredients were onions and cabbage (food processors are great). I made way too many potato pancakes because they liked them heated up for breakfast with syrup. Picky boy never noticed. I had made a salad for everyone else. The specialty was pork ribs, which I did on the BBQ. Now, picky boy insisted there be BBQ sauce on everything, so that’s what I used.

At the time, we didn’t have a dishwasher, so I had one half of the sink full of soapy water so I could clean stuff as I was cooking; I was amazingly organized back then compared to now. Wife and kids sat at the table while I plated their meals. For some reason, Mr. Picky and I sat at opposite ends of the table. I plonked everything down, and just as we were ready to tuck in guess who screamed, “I don’t want BBQ sauce on this! I hate it!”?

I quietly got up and took the plate back to the kitchen. I removed the offending ribs and, with the kitchen scrub brush, immersed them in the soapy water, scoured all the BBQ sauce off, rinsed them, and, after wiping the sauce off his plate, put the now clean ribs on it, and presented the plate to him.

“You’re in luck! There was one piece that didn’t have BBQ sauce on it!” I said.

He beamed and said, “Thanks, Dad!”

I have never enjoyed a meal so much, watching him at the other end of the table chowing down. I thought to myself, “I finally got you, you picky b*****d.”

Years later, after their mum and I split, the kids, now in their teens, were at my place, and we were having fun telling stories about their childhoods. I told this one, and Mr. Picky was indignant: “You did WHAT?”

My response was, “It was that or you would have died that day.”

I’m sure there are parents out there who can relate.