The Broccoli Summit
“Leo, darling, these aren’t just green lumps,” Sarah pleaded, gesturing wildly at the plate. “These are… miniature rainforest trees! For your stegosaurus!”
Leo, aged seven, blinked slowly, a master negotiator trapped in a child’s body. “Stegosauruses eat ferns, Mom. And anyway, my Steggy is a vegan.”
“He’s a plastic toy, Leo,” David interjected from behind his newspaper, barely suppressing a chuckle. “He’ll eat whatever you make him.”
Sarah shot him a look that could curdle milk. “No, no, David, it’s all about imagination!” She turned back to Leo, adopting her most saccharine voice. “Imagine Steggy traversing the lush green canopy! And then… CHOMP!”
Leo tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Okay. But Steggy has to try them first. And you have to make the dinosaur noises.”
Sarah, desperate for a vegetable victory, put on her best primal roar, picking up the toy and ‘chomping’ a broccoli floret. “ROAR-CHOMP! Mmm, delicious little tree!”
Leo watched, unblinking. “Now spit it out, Mom. Steggy hasn’t learned to swallow yet. He just chews and drops it on the floor. For texture.”
The silence that followed was broken only by David’s very obvious attempt to muffle his laughter with a newspaper. Sarah looked at the broccoli in her mouth, then at the pristine dining room floor. The “texture” of the evening had definitely changed.