Carne Amante

As it became clear that the carefully planned menu was being ditched in favor of pizza, the inevitable discussion began...who wants what?  This conversation is usually short and sweet owing to the fact that everyone in the family has a favorite and I will eat anything that isn't a beet.  Thankfully, all three boys are generally of one mind so the bickering is limited to cheese or more cheese.

Hold on...what's this?  Why was I hearing the words "meat lovers" from Justin?  What happened to cheese, cheese and more cheese?

Justin, who sincerely believes that he loves pizza but, in fact, loves the idea of pizza far more, suddenly decided to branch out.  How unfortunate.  As it is, there is always begging and pleading, and when you finally give in, he barely eats an entire slice - two, if you nearly starve him to death ahead of time (this is purely speculative, of course).  What horrible timing.  And by horrible timing I mean, I like the way things have been for the past eleven years so quit with the independent thinking.

"Dad, I really love the meat lovers pizza," he informed me.

I shouldn't have been surprised.  The diligent laying of ground work for this proposal had been afoot for days.  There was careful mentioning of "meat lovers" whenever we passed a pizza shop.  He slipped the words "meat lovers" into the conversation whenever we passed the frozen foods aisle.  He launched into the story of this new found love with unflagging persistence any time anyone used a word that started with "p" .  Almost at once I began to wonder who was going to get stuck eating the rest of this meat monstrosity when he finally came to the conclusion that he didn't like it after all.

"Since when?" I ask.

I immediately regretted having spoken.

"You know how I played basketball this year..." and just like that he was off on a story of such magnitude and scope that it made the Iliad seem like a recruiting brochure for the Greek Army. 

Now, I am not one to suffer long stories but I did my absolute best to listen, fighting every single urge I had to fill in the blanks and complete his sentences in an effort to bring about the end of the story as fast as humanly possible.  My wife will tell you that this is completely ironic as I am the most long-winded person you will ever hope to meet (or not to meet as the case may be).  Finally, I had reached the end of my rope.  Too much pausing and thinking, too many "ums" and "ers" and too much time I will never get back.

"...at the end of basketball...what is it called?" he paused to think of the word "season".

"Justin!  You have got to learn how to tell a story!" I said, trying not to shout.  "Mr. Parsons - end of basketball season - team reward - meat lovers pizza - now you love it and that's all you want to eat for ever and ever - amen!"

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the look of absolute disbelief that Ashley was giving me from the passenger's seat.  Just keep that look to yourself honey, we could easily have died listening to that story.  Is that really the last thing you wanted to hear on this earth?

- 15 January 2012