My Children, They Are Sophisticated

Last weekend, we had a fun visit with Grandad Tracy and Mimi. We hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving, so by the time they got here last Friday, the girls could hardly contain themselves. Arden walked around for hours Friday morning saying "Mimi? Mimi?" over and over. And Claire asked me so many times when they would be here, that I finally told her if she asked me once more, they might not come. Seriously. I said that.

One of the highlights of the visit was our final dinner together on Saturday night. We went out for sushi. I'm just going to let that soak in for a minute. Sushi=raw fish. Meredith=only consumes foods that are cooked according to USDA food safety guidelines. Luckily, any good sushi place realizes that for every raw fish loving customer that comes in, there's going to be one that feels sushi is just one step removed from snacking on your goldfish (and I'm not talking about the crackers).

I do not consider myself to have a sophisticated palate. I love a grilled hotdog almost as much as a filet, prefer chocolate cake (from a mix) to creme brule, and let's face it, I watch American Gladiators. It should come as no surprise, then, that I ordered myself a noodle bowl and left the sushi-eating to the other adults.


About half-way through our meal, Claire decided that she wanted to try some sushi. Mimi cut her a tiny piece, and I watched as my FOUR YEAR OLD ate raw fish, with chopsticks, no less, and asked for more. She finished the entire piece and loved it.
Arden opted not to try the sushi, but instead filled up on all the edamame that was available. I think she seriously ate a pound of soybeans that night.

How is it that my children have more sophisticated tastes than I do? The next thing you know, they'll be wanting to discuss art and politics and religion. I blame Baby Einstein. I really do.