Last summer, we went to a neighbor's fish fry. I don't even like fish. But I do like fried. Took me back to the glory days - when our booster club would host a fish fry. Good times. Just when I was getting my socializing groove on with my new neighbors - Max starts whining, about the fish. I'm trying to keep his comments down so he doesn't ruin EVERYTHING and God forbid, gasp - embarass me and then my neighbors don't talk to me. They don't anyways now. But that was a year and a half ago - I've had plenty of time since then to offend my neighbors, and apparently have.
Back to the fish fry - Max started crying - wailing - saying it burned. It turned out that Max had strep throat. And so, the salty and somewhat spicy and scratchy batter of delicious fish fryness pretty much battled with those ever pleasant puss pockets that we now realize coated his throat. We took him home, after momma finished her meal. And went back for seconds. Then we took Max to urgent care and got the goods for his now full on throat injury.
Ever since then, Max won't eat fish. Well, not as a willing participant. I don't like fish either, but once or twice a week, I try to work it in on the menu. Fine, once or twice a month. But Max thinks the fish made his throat burn. And he tells us that everytime. So, we begin the dance. "Max, this is what is for dinner." Most of the time he eats the mandatory number of bites we've demanded that night, and we go on with our lives.
Last week, I made fish. Ricardo and I are having fillets. I drown mine in lemon juice so I can show the kids, "See, mmmMMM, it's yummy. Mommy eats fish. I like fish. Fish is soooo good for you." Each time, I'm fighting the bile back while I lie to them. Fish is nasty. NASTY. Just the texture and the flavor. Ick. But I do it because it's good for me, and I need to be a fine example for the children. Right? Still, after Max's protests, I think I've been very flexible and found the best whole fish nugget looking things I could find and bake. They looked just like chicken nuggets. Still, Max balked.
This time, he won't stop about blah blah blah his throat hurts. Yada yada. So, finally, after the "It's not good to cry wolf" speech and the "oh really, you're throat hurts? enough to get a shot at the doctor?" speech, I decide to see if maybe just maybe he might be telling the truth. Say WHAT? I know.
I get a flashlight, look in his throat. It's a little pink, but for my kid, it's pretty normal. I tell him to eat a piece of fish. And I look back in his throat, and there it is....plain as day, 10 shades of brighter and redder throat and the tonsils have grown. Whether it's an allergy or not, clearly, it's enough proof to me that I'm an asshole for cramming fish in his throat and not listening to him. Sigh. I just looked at him, and said, "Max, you're right. Mommy's wrong. You do not have to eat fish again." And walked away.
A lying kid would have done the happy dance and probably muttered NANNY NANNY a few times. But my kid - the honest one - says "Thanks, Mom." And then ate the rest of his green beans and brocoli.
I'm wondering if there's not something there in the fine print of my son's throat that maybe his throat gets inflamed when he eats fish because it was so susceptible to infection that time he had strep throat? And that's why I'm a writer and not a doctor, folks. They'll let any old crazy lady be a mom. I'm cool with that. And I'm even better now that I don't have to eat fish. Good job, Max. And sorry about that whole, force you to eat it thing.
That's how I roll.
Do fish and bananas have anything in common besides Max?