We had tuna and veggie kebabs and rice for dinner (all hail, Whole Paycheck’s fish!). I am tempted to use Herr-Meow-speak to refer to certain things– like rice is really “ricey-rice” and tuna is really “chicky” or “piggy-chicky”.
I suppose that as long as he actually eats what’s in front of him, does it really matter what we call it? Does integrity in names really matter at age two-and-a-half?
I suppose I should also point out that I’m watching some Colombian soap opera on Telemundo. I know, it’s yet another eye-roller, except that suddenly I have the saddest, most blatantly pathetic craving for yucca. I don’t care what form it takes– I want yucca fries or maybe some thick stew with lots of yucca floating in it.
I want it so much right now that I am tempted to piss off my little helpful Typepad red-squiggle spellchecker and write out “yuca”, skipping that extra c that makes it seem weird and foreign and not just like, you know, yuca.
I’m off to watching some more cheeztasticness and dreaming of sancocho. See you guys tomorrow.
Mmmmm yucca fries. That sounds fantastic right now.
Sheesh – now I’m hungry!