Like Father Like Son

candy and cookies

Danny was sitting at the dining room table doing his homework. “Mom, can I have a snack?” he called out to his mother, who was fixing dinner in the kitchen.

“Danny, I gave you some milk and cookies when you got back from school. Your father will be home soon and we’ll be having dinner in a little while,” Danny’s mother answered.

Danny loved snacks. Dinners not so much. The main dish, usually chicken, steak, meatloaf, or fish, was tolerable. But then she’d pile onto his plate things he didn’t like: broccoli, asparagus, Brussel sprouts, cauliflower. Yuck.

Why couldn’t she let him have cookies or Pop-Tarts or a Snickers bar or a pile of M&Ms on the side? Why force him to confront those yucky veggies that he had trouble chewing and swallowing because they tasted awful?

“Because they’re healthy and they’re good for you,” she’d answer when he asked why she made him eat those things rather than giving him snacks as side dishes. Danny never really understood why she always said that. Who cares, he thought, if food is “good for you” if it doesn’t taste good?

“When I grow up, I’m going eat nothing but snacks,” Danny announced, a tone of defiance in his voice.

“Okay, I tell you what,” his mother said. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you have a snack now, but then you can’t have dessert after dinner.”

Danny’s ten-year-old mind started churning. “What’s for dessert?”

“I cut up some fruit,” she said, “and I’ll put a dollop of whipped cream on top just for you.”

“Okay, fine,” Danny said, returning to his homework.

At about that time, Danny’s father walked into the front door of their apartment. He walked over to his son and ruffled his hair. Then he called out to his wife, “Honey, can I have a snack?”


This post is in response to today’s Daily Prompt: Snack.

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