You can smell the hotdogs roasting and pour yourself a big glass of lemonade before you sit down at the picnic. Ahhh! This is the life.
Then your mom hands you your plate. Mmmm..! Fresh fruit, oven baked fries and... cue record scratch... A barbecued hot dog, plain, wrapped in a slice of store-bought bread.
Sorry. You can't have ketchup and mustard, and all the buns have preservatives or artifical ingredients.
I feel like I'm always doing that to my kids. I'll make you a cupcake, but without sprinkles. You can have plain popcorn, but not the microwave kind. We can eat pizza, but only from one restaurant and only certain toppings.
I know they don't care, but I can't help thinking that if it was me, I would.
I'm always checking the import market for specialty items the boys can have, but last weekend I stumbled onto an additive-free ketchup at the regular supermarket!
Emboldened by my find, I checked out French's yellow mustard just in case and was shocked to find that it has always been ok! Oops... Sorry boys!
Anyway, we had a barbecue to celebrate, and the boys were in hog heaven. Lennon even put ketchup on his pomello!
Despite never putting up a fuss when they have to forego condiments, I know they've been watching. When I topped M's hotdog with straight lines instead of the commerical-classic ketchup and mustard squiggle, he wasn't having it!
In the end it was still wrapped in a boring slice of store bread, but it was still a victory. One thing at a time, I guess!