Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Grapefruit and adulthood

EMILY PUT A post on her Facebook page this morning, and it scared the bleep out of me.

Today I ate a plain, unsweetened grapefruit for breakfast and enjoyed it. Does this mean I'm turning into an adult?

No, Emily. It does not mean you are growing up. You are only 5 years old! What are you talking about? You have your whole life in front of you to eat whole foods, grass-fed beef and gluten-free pasta.

What's that? You aren't 5? What happened, did I blink?

This is much better for you than grapefruit.
Wow. You are actually, what, 23? Holy crap. How did that happen? The next thing you will tell me is that you are just a few months shy of getting your master's degree from a prestigious music college in New York. Silly girl! Dare to dream, I always say.

I want to play sock football in the front yard at halftime. I want you to fall asleep on my lap watching the Red Wings. I want to read "Goodnight Moon" again and again and again. For me, you big silly, but if you get something out of it, fine.

I'm beginning to get depressed. Maybe I'll listen to Nirvana or force myself to watch American Idol so I get pissed off and forget about my troubles.

Now, about this grapefruit. I appreciate you sucking it up and telling everybody it was good. I'm drinking cranberry juice, and Sheryl even made me get the real juice stuff, not the cocktail version, since it has less sugar and carbs.

We are finally coming to see you in a couple of weeks and we can talk about it. Make sure you have some Cap'n Crunch or Saturated Fat Frozen Pizza on hand, and we'll get through it.

And never grow up. That's an order.

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