“What about passing? Are you good at passing the ball? How’s your footwork?” Harvey asked. Harvey took a bite of his quesadilla and was quiet while he chewed.
Caden pushed at his chicken and ate his applesauce out of sheer desperation. Corinne had better luck with the mac and cheese, but the carrots got no attention. Still, if they didn’t embarrass her any worse than this, they were getting ice cream. They hadn’t mentioned that mommy put on more deodorant in the car or that she told them they had to promise to be on their best behavior. So far, it was a win.
She barely tasted her food, trying to think of something to say to Harvey. At last, she told him that Corinne knew all of her shapes.
“All right, how many sides does an octagon have?”
“Uh, that’s not a real shape.”
“Sure it is. Stop signs are octagonal. How many sides? Mom said you know your shapes.”
“Harvey, she knows the basic ones. Triangle, square, rectangle, circle, oval. Not the advanced ones. She’s five. It’s awesome that she knows so many shapes already.”
“Mommy, do I not know all the shapes?” Corinne’s voice trembled, and Bella shifted Caden off her lap so she could put an arm around Corinne.
“You know every single kindergarten shape. I bet oval is even a first-grade shape. Harvey here went to college. You’re not supposed to know college shapes yet. You’re a little girl.”
“I want to know about the Octonauts!”
“The show on Disney Junior?” Caden said, “I love Captain Barnacles! I know all about it.”
“No, she means octagon,” Bella shook her head, took out a crayon and drew the shape for her daughter and helped her count the sides.
“It has eight edges and eight vertices,” Harvey announced. Corinne’s face clouded again.
“Dude, call them sides. She’s five,” Bella whispered.
“Why do you keep saying that? I know she’s five.”
“Apparently, you don’t. You’re stressing her out. She’s worked really hard at this, and now you’ve made her feel bad. So eat your damn quesadilla and shut it,” Bella said.
“You said damn,” Caden whispered.
“She said shut up, too,” Corinne said, eyes wide, “Mommy doesn’t talk like that.”
“Technically she said ‘shut it’, not shut up,” Harvey said and laughed. “Is dinnertime always this exciting?
“There’s always dinner and a show,” Bella said. She peered at him. “I’m sorry, Harvey. I’m stressed out. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
He laughed it off. “It’s okay. Do they ever eat food?”
“What do you mean by food?”
“Salmon? Vegetables? Anything real?”
“They eat kid food, Harvey. Don’t stress yourself out. It took me a while to come to terms with the whole picky eater thing. I had this idea that if they only had healthy food in the house, that’s what they’d eat. It didn’t work out. Mac and cheese became a staple. I don’t recommend trying to change that.”
“Obviously by exposing them to a variety of foods, they’ll develop a better palate.”
“Better as in you want them to become food critics? Because I want them to eat enough that they can grow.”
“I’d like them to appreciate fine cuisine. It’s part of being a cultured adult.”
“You’re eating quesadillas. Is that fine cuisine?”
“In this case, no. However, I am familiar with some very sophisticated menus around the world. Remember the time I got you to try the tripe?”
“I remember that,” she said, shaking her head.