Corrupting The Youth

I have issues with Cheetos. It's not that they turn my fingers orange. It's not that the remains gunk up my teeth. It's not that they have voices that call to me to eat them. It's the fact that I listen to the voices and obey. And now, it's gotten worse. I have become a Cheeto Pusher.

Sweet little Lindley, who only eats the food she wants (and that changes from minute to minute), usually eats cheddar cheese, healthy granola bars, and pumpkin muffins when she's at my house. Occasionally she will eat a banana or some Cheerios with milk. She always washes down whatever with some milk. In other words, she eats the good stuff.

Sure, we've tried to push some contraband on her. She's said no to brownies and M&Ms. In fact, she gets fairly agitated should any unacceptable food be placed near her. Sometimes, it can even be good, healthy food. If it doesn't strike her fancy (and we never know what that fancy might be), she wants nothing to do with it.

So this afternoon, I thought it would be interesting to see her reaction to a Cheeto. I figured with its bright orange color and rough exterior, it would certainly be a no-go. I was incorrect. I have now created a Cheeto-aholic. We eventually had to hide the bag.

Bad Granny Lu. Guess I'll have to finish the bag myself. It's only because it's for Lindley's good. Really.

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Today's blessings: safe road trip back home; Steve fixing grilled Edam cheese sandwiches for lunch; Steve's Bubba Burgers with MSU Edam cheese for dinner; dinner with Steve, Sam, Lindley, Molly, and Adam; phone call from birthday girl Maribeth; texting with John