Memories of Junk Food

So, as Michael threatened promised, he posted a comment about his family outing to the Farmer's Market yesterday:

April,

Little sis. Sometimes my lovely Deanna gets the strangest ideas in her head, and then she feels the need to inflict them on the rest of the family. What can I do? She is my wife and she does control whether or not I get any. When she really insists on something, sometimes a good husband (like me) knows when to give in. The idea my Deanna had was to take the children to the farmer’s market to teach them about healthy eating and from whence our food comes. When Deanna told me this idea, I had this sudden feeling that Deanna had never actually been to a farm, like you and I have done on our summers to Auntie Bev’s farm in Winnipeg. I said to her, “Deanna, darling. Food does not come from farmers’ market stalls. It comes off plants at farms.” Deanna said, “Michael sometimes you say the funniest things. You crack me up!” This was not the response I had expected, but given Deanna’s mother’s overly protective nature when she was growing up, it seemed like a reasonable response. I said, “No seriously. The food at a farmers’ market comes from farms.” Deanna said, “Michael Patterson. We are going to the farmers’ market and that is that!! And I don’t want you saying anything to the children ridiculous like what you just said to me!!!”

So off to the farmers’ market we went. My daughter had on her new pink child identification collar, and Deanna had on her new psychedelic pants, with the colours that shimmer and change shape as she walks. I had on the standard Patterson men’s garb of V-necked sweater over a collared shirt, so popular with the men (and future men like Anthony Caine) in our family. My son had on a pair of overalls; Deanna wanted him to wear for some reason.

The children were initially afraid of the farmers’ market and eyed it suspiciously. There was a man selling lettuce, and I must admit he was a little too friendly for his own good, because he scared me a too. Next to him was an Egyptian woman selling zucchini. I know she was Egyptian because she had that little square chin the Egyptians had, like King Tut. Finally my daughter found a racial stereotype associated with a vegetable she liked and picked corn from the Latina corn lady. She said, “That lady looks she would be a lady who sells corn.” I said, “And what ethnicity is she?” My daughter said, “Indian. First Nations.” I said, “That’s a very good guess, but she is actually a Latina.” Deanna said, “Mike. We are not here to teach the children about ethnicities. We are here to teach the children where food comes from and about healthy food.” I ignored her and was about to ask my daughter if she knew the ethnicity of the Oriental lady selling honey at The Honey House, but my daughter was interested in other things.

She saw the broccoli and said, “Mom. Vegetables you can play ‘trees’ with. Those wooden ‘trees’ grandpa John gave me left over from his choo-choos broke. I could use these instead.” Deanna was busy picking the corn vegetable my daughter had already chosen, and did not realize what my daughter had said, but when my daughter picked up a broccoli spear and presented it to her by saying, “Look mommy. This end of this vegetable looks like one of my pigtails,” Deanna knew she had to buy it.

Have I mentioned what a good climber my son is these days? I wasn’t looking and he leapt onto my back and grabbed me around the neck. He had a death grip on me, so I grabbed his feet and tried to pull him off. I know most people would think a 2-year-old doesn’t have much arm strength, but that is not the case with my son. He was able to support his whole weight by holding onto my neck for a long time. Not only did my effort to get him off my back fail, but when he saw my daughter with the broccoli, he managed to hold on with just one hand, using the other hand to point to his favorite vegetable in the entire world, carrots; and say the word “Coins” while he was pointing. He is so advanced for his age. He continued climbing until he ended up on my shoulders, with his death grip around my chin. I was afraid he might snap my neck, so when he pointed at the cotton candy, I wanted to jump on the opportunity to get him to release me, but I had to wait for a time when Deanna was not around, since she would not approve of an unhealthy food purchase, even if it meant saving my neck. Fortunately that time came soon afterwards. Deanna broke wind and it was so powerful, not only did she break wind, but she created little whirlwind of gaseous waste materials. She had to excuse herself, and my chance came. I lured my son off my shoulders by telling him he could have any colour cotton candy he wanted.

In the meantime, my daughter learned a new game called, “Pop goes the pumpkin” which was mainly about her hiding in the pumpkins and then popping out sideways from the stack of pumpkins to surprise someone. The pumpkin sales person got tired of this game, and so Deanna ended up buying one of the pumpkins in compensation. When my daughter caught on to the idea that my son was going to get cotton candy, she wanted some too.

When Deanna came back from the little woman’s room, she was not happy to find me buying cotton candy. I told her that the reason I bought the cotton candy was because cotton candy is the part of the trip that they would remember. But as I looked at my son with the 2 tiny, delicate hands, ripping into the cotton candy unmercifully, I thought, “That could have been my head and neck.” My daughter had a much better idea of how to use the cotton candy. She fashioned it into a makeshift blonde beard and was trying to get it to stick to her neck. I predict a career in stage makeup design for her. Deanna was horrified at my suggestion of this career choice.

And that’s the story of our trip. You should come with us next time, but be careful to avoid my son when he is one of his jumping moods.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Mike, if U really believed the cotton candy would be what Merrie an' Robin would remember, did U do it cuz U wanted 2 undo the day's lesson? That wd B kinda mean. But I agree, it's weird that Dee thinx taking the littlez 2 the farmer's market is the way 2 teach them abt where their food comes from. Instead of, say, taking them 2 a farm or orchard.

Apes