Sunday, July 23, 2006

I'm starting to think I need to change his name

The Door Man is obsessive about things. When he gets on something, it is all he can think about. There are times that I truly worry about him turning into Monk. Sometimes we call him Monk. To his face. Yes, scar him for life, I know. But hey ... he doesn't know who Monk is, so no harm, no foul.

I believe that I should change his nickname to: Onion Boy.

Not that he smells like one. Not that he looks like one. But he has a love affair with the onion.

When he goes out to my parents' house, he raids the Mominator's herb garden, ridding her of a majority of her chives. And the other two love to eat them, too. It makes for a very pleasant 15 minute drive back home. He will stand there with 10 chive offshoots in his grubby little hands, shoving them in as fast as he can because he knows that I will be on top of him like a fly on honey, telling him that he will be the one cleaning up the chive-induced hurl in the backseat.

When he gets onion rings, he peels part of the breading off, rips the onion from its home, eats it, and then pops the rest of the breading in his mouth. It is a science.

We go to the Farmer's Market a few weeks ago. I pick up an onion. He is beyond thrilled. We walk into the house, and he looks at me and I shudder. It is the look of a crazed man. Not a boy. A man. The type who will say things like "woman, get me my dinner!" "woman, why aren't my shirts ironed?"

And he said to me in that boy voice of his "mommy ... can you cook that onion up for me tonight for dinner?"

Tonight we were out to eat with my parents. The Door Man LOOOOOVES his PawPaw. PawPaw could do NO wrong.

After the child version of the Dyson vacuum cleaner had consumed his dinner of Plenty O'Pancakes, a sausage link, and 1/2 of my dinner roll, the Man turned his gaze upon his younger sister's dinner. He received a chicken finger, and some smiley face potatoes.

The Door Man didn't eat the potatoes, and my Dad didn't know what they were so, when in doubt, get the Door Man all excited.

Hey ... I think you have some onion rings on your plate.

Practically falling out of his chair, the Door Man exclaims WHERE?!?!!?

Right there on your plate .... those round smiley things.

PawPaw .. those aren't onion rings. Is this your first time here?

8 Comments:

Blogger MommaK said...

That's so cute! Isn't it weird the food they eat?! My daughter loves black olives. She would eat a whole can if I let her :)

8:06 AM  
Blogger Happy0303 said...

At least you'll always smell him coming!

Here via Click & Comment Monday. I'm off to visit your renter.

3:58 PM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

There will be no mistaking when he comes into a room, that is for certain!

Thanks for visiting!

5:20 PM  
Blogger crazymumma said...

Chives! my girls as well....I finally let them grow a whole bunch so they could got out and get stinky all by themselves...so funny, Anne

8:28 PM  
Blogger The "Mind" said...

I can just see him salivating over the thought of you cooking him up an onion for supper. Too cute!

11:23 PM  
Blogger Betty said...

Dr John sent me.
I like onions as a flavoring but not alone. As a child I pull up an onion from the garden and my dad made me eat the whole thing, as a punishment. Your son would have not found that as punishment.

8:32 AM  
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2:21 AM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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