Awhile back we established the fact that my 14 year-old son is a complete and utter slob. We have also established the fact that he is an extremely picky eater due to texture issues associated with autism.
But until this weekend I never realized that his food would one day rise up and attempt to kill me.
Jayden has the worst diet I’ve ever seen. This is the complete list of things he will eat:
- Pop Tarts
- Strawberry oatmeal
- Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (but only in his school lunch)
- Spaghetti (but only if my mom makes it, despite the fact that I make it the exact. same. way.)
- Macaroni and cheese
- Chicken strips
- Hot dogs
- Popcorn shrimp
- Cheeseburgers with nothing but cheese, burger, ketchup, and bun (and not from McDonald’s ever since he watched Supersize Me)
- Cheese Pringles
- Mashed potatoes, corn, and peas (this is considered a complete meal and all 3 items must be present)
- Hamburger Helper with the enormous shells
- Occasional miniscule portions of things I cook if they contain the items listed above
And then there are the noodles. The stupid, disgusting noodles that he eats at least once every single day, the ones he has referred to as “weird-shaped noodles” since he was 4 or 5 years old. The noodles that I now consider armed and dangerous. You’ve probably seen them before – you might have even eaten them yourself. I’m just here to warn you before it’s too late.
Every day without fail, Jayden makes these harbingers of doom in the microwave. They smell horrible, offer zero nutritional value, and I won’t even get started on how they taste. Each pouch of noodles requires 4 slices of cheese to
mask the foul flavor enhance the taste enough for him to eat them.
Anyway, onto the tale of the noodles’ homicidal tendencies.
On Saturday, Jayden tried to sneak two 8×8 dishes out of his room without me noticing. (I’ve tried to explain to him that my MomVision™ makes such endeavors impossible, but he either doesn’t believe me or doesn’t care.) Evidently the near-flogging he received when he had a MOUSE in his room awhile back wasn’t enough to make him clean up his messes in a timely manner.
I had two dishes, both of which were caked with dried cheese, and one of which had a clump of “weird-shaped noodles” in the bottom. Not a huge deal, right? I ordered Jayden (very sternly, mind you) to scrape the noodles into the garbage can so we could work on getting the dishes clean.
After a few minutes, it became obvious that the noodles weren’t going anywhere. They had been in his room long enough to turn into a blob of cement – cheesy, nasty cement. So I did what any logical person would do; I got out a large serving spoon and proceeded to stab at the noodles until they broke loose from the dish.
Somewhere in the process of stabbing at the dried noodles, they decided to fight back. A chunk of pasta cement ricocheted off the bottom of the dish, cutting my finger as you can see in the picture above. My finger started bleeding – not a little bit either. I’m talking a BUNCH of blood that required gauze and two bandaids.
Who the hell cuts her finger open with NOODLES? This girl, apparently.
So I’m standing in front of the garbage can with a bloody finger and a dish full of dried noodles. The dogs are running around all excited because they think I might drop some on the floor. Jayden is standing there wondering if I’m going to strangle him. And then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I busted out laughing.
I did eventually get the noodles out of the dish, but not before I cut myself three more times. Later, it occurred to me that I could have soaked the dish in hot water and loosened up the cement long enough to get the noodles out. But OF COURSE I didn’t think of that until it was much too late. I look like I was attacked by a ream of paper or something.
Jayden later sent me this:
I still don’t trust those stupid noodles. But I guess at least I got them before they succeeded in killing me. Consider this your Monday Public Service Announcement – Noodles, much like teenage boys, are not to be trusted.