Not My Garlic Bread!


 

Maria eating her pasta

Maria was starving when we got home from school last night.  She opened the freezer and found a frozen spaghetti dinner that also included a slice of garlic bread.  You would have thought the box contained a princess Barbie or gold.  She held it up in the air as if it were magical, and screamed “Mom, can I have this for dinner!” 

Well, before my organic, “my kids would never eat microwaveable food” mothers go nuts, I typically cook spaghetti with wheat noodles and pour on some yummy tomato sauce.  However, I was tired last night.  I had felt nauseous all day and I just wanted to sit down on the couch and rest.  So, it was Maria’s lucky night. 

We popped the dinner in the microwave, and kept the bread out until the dinner cooked.  The entire time the dinner was cooking, Maria kept touching the plastic on the garlic bread and chanting “this bread is going to be so yummy.”  I made some other toast with our wheat bread and slathered butter and garlic salt on it.  I told Maria that this bread would taste just as good.  She knew better.  She has experienced “true” white bread garlic bread smothered in butted and garlic before – at our local pasta shoppe – so there was no tricking her.  One bite of that wheat imposter, and she made it clear that the plastic wrapped garlic bread was her choice. 

The spaghetti finished and the garlic bread went in.  Twenty seconds later, the bread came out.  Maria ogled it.  I broke the bread in half and told Maria she had to split it with Mario.  She protested at first but figured she would get Mario’s half anyway since he eats nothing but Goldfish and suckers.  I took the two pieces of bread to the kids’ Dora table and went back in the kitchen where Maria was putting parmesan cheese on her spaghetti. 

Before I knew it, I heard Mario running into the kitchen and yelling for Cy.  Next thing I knew, Maria was screaming uncontrollably and then sobbing and then darting toward her brother with both arms out ready to strangle his little neck.  I caught her during the choke hold, and pushed her aside.  She ran in the living room like a frantic lost animal. 

“Daddy, Mario fed my garlic bread to Cy!” 
“Maria, it is ok, we can make you some more.”

Still sobbing uncontrollably “No, Dad, that was the only good piece we had and Mario fed it to Cy.”  She threw herself onto the chair and cried and cried and cried.  Mario tried to get near her and she scolded him to get away from her.  “I never want to be your sister again!” 

Pretty harsh words over a piece of garlic bread.  Ahh, but that is our Maria.  She enjoys her food and is willing to give up friendships and even family when it comes down to it.  Mario has bitten her, scratched her, head-butted her, hit her, pulled her hair, and she still gives him hugs and kisses and sings “I love you little brother.”  But last night, he went too far.  He relinquished Maria’s garlic bread to the dog. 

It may take days, even months, for him to win her back over.   I advised him to invest in another piece of garlic bread, and this time, to make sure the dog is no where in sight.  Kroger’s here we come….

2 thoughts on “Not My Garlic Bread!

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