When Christina made eggplant parmesan last week, she had to keep the pasta sauce away from three pieces because Derek doesn’t like sauce.
I promised Derek I’d make him wings a few weeks ago.
“OK, but don’t put any wing sauce on mine,” Derek said, pointing his finger for added emphasis.
There was a mini-crisis Tuesday morning in our house because the only clean socks in Derek’s draw were white.
“I don’t like white socks!” Derek said, tears pooling in his eyes.
Believe me, Derek is not a spoiled brat. He just likes what he likes. And I like that.
When it comes to putting sauce on chicken or socks on his feet, I want Derek to do what makes him comfortable rather than doing something just because it’s acceptable. So if he wants his wings naked, fine. If he wants to wear a Batman sock on his left foot and a striped one on his right, fine. If he wants to eat a raw ear of corn, fine.
Be your own person. Lead, don’t follow. Just be happy.
That’s the kind of kid we want to raise.
And besides, all it means is more wing sauce for me.