Truly, the scariest words of impending doom to ever be uttered by a child -- especially my “creative” child. Bread slices all over the world cringe in terror and I shudder inside, knowing I’m going to have to watch him eat it.
To watch him make his creations is beyond fascinating. He’s very serious and thoughtful as he rifles through the pantry cupboards and roots around the refrigerator. He considers items, then begins pulling out the random foods and condiments that strike his fancy. He piles up his choices on the counter next to the plate provided and drags his stool over so he’s tall enough to actually reach everything.
Sometimes his masterpieces require something cooked like an egg or something sliced like a banana or a tomato. That’s when I get pulled in to be the lovely assistant and the only time I’m permitted to touch anything. Let me repeat: that is the ONLY time I’m allowed to touch the sacred ingredients or the butter knife with which he applies them.
He starts by putting two slices of bread on his plate. They stare at me in horror, pleading with me to not let the atrocities about to happen, happen. I ignore their silent cries and ask 3ft if he needs anything cooked or cut up today.
“No, thank you,” he says angelically, but there’s no mistaking the mad scientist gleam in his eyes.
I step back, thankful not to be a part of the obscenities about to begin. He glops a thick layer of mayonnaise in the center of one of the slices of bread. It kills me to watch it sit there, clumped in the middle -- I’m a perfectionist spreader and my condiments have to be an even layer from crust to crust on all sides of the bread. I refrain from saying anything. This is, after all, his creation, his masterpiece, and perhaps it’s done that way on purpose.
Like a surgeon, he meticulously unwraps a slice of American cheese -- careful not to rip it as he removes the plastic lining. He places it squarely on top of the mayonnaise and adjusts it until it’s perfectly centered on the bread. What makes the cheese so special that it’s placed just so but the mayonnaise is sloppily globbed on?
Okay, okay but so far it sounds like a reasonable sandwich, does it not?
I’m not done. That’s just the beginning.
For this particular work of art, on the other slice of bread he applies a heavy dose of Nutella. Then onto the mayonnaise and cheese side of the sandwich he piles on a mountain of miniature marshmallows and a smiley face made out of pepperoni slices. Then he slaps the Nutella slice on top and squishes it down. I wonder if he can hear the Jaws theme playing in the background because I sure can.
He finishes off this ensemble with a Crunchy-Cheetos-and-banana-slices garnish then carries it over to the table. He sits down and sniffs the sandwich like it’s a fine wine (I don’t know where he gets that from).
“Mmm-mmm-mmm,” he says, his eyes alight with anticipation.
As he picks it up, the mayonnaise squishes out the side (I don’t know how since it was clumped in the middle) and marshmallows tumble down to the plate. I watch in amazement as he takes a humongous bite and chews it -- Nutella and mayonnaise coat the sides of his mouth and make a trail up his cheeks.
“How is it?” I ask hiding my disgust.
“It could’ve used some Marshmallow Crème, but it’s pretty good. Want a bite?”
I shake my head vigorously and watch him hork down the entire sandwich in a matter of moments. I swear the Cheetos and bananas ended up inside the sandwich at some point. This is the same child that will turn up his nose and make gross faces at Stroganoff, Baked Chicken, or Meatloaf, refusing to eat any of them.
Luckily for me, I have a high gross out factor so I was able to eat my lunch alongside him with little trouble. I would starve to death otherwise -- it’s become a regular thing for him to make his own lunch.
“The Most Awesomest Sandwiches” have included:
1.) bread, fried egg, banana slices, tomato slices, and mayonnaise.
2.) bread, cheese, mayonnaise, fruit gummies, sour cream and cheddar chips, and key lime yogurt.
3.) bread, ketchup, mayonnaise, cheese, strawberry yogurt, and Cheetos
These are just his repeat offenders, he comes up with new ones all the time.
Horrifying, right? But we have a deal. I promise not to say anything and let him do it (a real act of willpower), and he can put whatever he wants into his sandwiches (who am I to stifle creativity?) as long as he does two things: 1) eats the entire creation, and 2) doesn’t force me to share.
Totally grossed out? Come back to where it's safe. Follow Lisa's crazy journey down the healthy living path at Melting Before Your Eyes. 3ft gets mentioned often but not his sandwich creations!