They’re Just Not Right.
We’ve recently learned that the caramel color found in most maple syrup is a carcinogen. So we’ve moved on to natural maple syrup.
With its natural sugars, it’s more like a fruit than a candy. Shane doesn’t love the syrup, but he eats it. Dylan, however, says the new syrup tastes like vomit and he’d rather have nothing on his pancakes.
“Fine with me,” I said.
“Isn’t there anything except this syrup that I can put on my pancakes?” he moaned.
“No,” I said. Then I went to the grocery store and discovered a natural strawberry syrup. Dylan loves strawberries, so I bought it.
“Ew!” he wailed. “It’s terrible!”
So we went back to nothing on his pancakes. And this morning, we were having leftover chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. I made a pile of three pancakes and sliced a banana on each one for added sweetness. It looked like a TV commercial for IHOP.
Dylan came downstairs for breakfast.
“I don’t want bananas on my pancakes,” he said.
“Dylan,” I said, “I worked very hard to make a nice breakfast for you. The only thing you can say right now is ‘thanks, Mom!’ Everything else is inappropriate.”
“But I just really didn’t want …”
“I don’t care if you didn’t want bananas. I was trying to do something nice for you and if you don’t like it, keep it to yourself.”
I left the room and came back a few minutes later.
Dylan was shoveling pancakes with bananas into his face. “This really isn’t bad,” he said with his mouth full, “except for the chocolate chips.”
“What?!” I said. “You’re complaining about the chocolate chips?”
“Well they’re all hard or something,” he said. “They’re just not right.”
I paused, only briefly, before continuing to argue with him about how to respond to the morning’s breakfast.
That pause was the moment that I realized: No matter what I say, no matter what I do, he’s going to be rude, and dislike anything I do for him. And nothing is going to be good enough.
But I can’t stop trying.
I truly wish I could stop trying. Life would be so much more pleasant if I just didn’t care about his well-being. But I can’t.
So next time, I’ll make sure the pancakes don’t have chocolate chips in them. I’ll add fruit, probably. Maybe I’ll add strawberries instead of bananas – a risky move, I know.
And I’ll hope against all rational thought, that he’ll sit down to eat and say, “Thanks, Mom. This is delicious!”