Conversations in a Minivan

                 My oldest has a deep, passionate hatred for fast food. Especially McDonald's. It stems from his desire to be a cardiologist. Usually he says "I hate you. McDonald's - blech" as we drive by. Kate will tease him by either telling him she's going to work at Chik-Fil-A when she's adult or by sprinkling his food with salt (Mom! She put salt on my peas - now they're covered with sodium!)

The other day, as we were driving by McDonald's, this was the conversation:

Jack: "I would hate to be a construction worker. My boss might make us build a McDonald's and I would be very unhappy. When I'm a surgeon, I'm going to tell all my patients that they can only eat fast food once a year. Maybe once a month but definitely not once a week or day."

Katie in the backseat pipes up, hands on her hips: "You can't tell those people what to do."

Jack: "It's my job, I'm their doctor."

Katie: "They already know what to do. A couple weeks ago I saw a yellow pick-up truck at McDonald's and it's not there now so he knows."

Meanwhile, Jack is rolling his eyes.

I can't really remember how the rest of this conversation went because I started wondering how Pooh Bear got his honey pots. It seems to me that they are pretty complicated for such animals to make. You may say at this point "But Jess, they have furniture. Surely pottery isn't too far of a stretch." But those are just roughly hewn things. A couple small trees cut for legs of a table, a coarse slab thrown on top. That's not rocket science. But pottery require skill, finesse, some sort of pottery wheel. It bothers me a bit.

And then it bothers me that I'm wondering about furniture and household accessories in a children's book of fiction.

Back to fast food. I respect Jack's conviction on fast food. Although really, if you unwrapped a McD's burger and gave it to him, he would happily eat it. It's only if he knows it's fast food that he becomes a purist. A couple weeks ago, we went to Five Guys with my mom. When the food came, he remarked "That was really quick." And then with a quickening sense of panic, he asks suspiciously "Wait a minute - is this fast food?" Likewise, he went to Wendy's with my mom a couple weeks ago and she told me how she had to talk him into going in while out in the parking lot. He exclaimed with alarm "But I've already eaten fast food three times this year!"

Katie has decided that she will be a "haircutter" and will make cupcakes and muffins and such for the clients to enjoy while she does hair. She, at least, is not concerned about the risk of diabetes. And sometimes, if she's feeling particularly snarky, she will tell McDonald's she loves it as we drive by.

Oh, those minivan conversations.