Let me introduce you to my son. Ben is 6 years old, likes video games, silly songs, and boxed Velveeta shells and cheese. Home cooks, hear me – VELVEETA.
One year ago at a fancy local restaurant in upstate New York we ordered our darling child a visually basic (but insanely delicious) bowl of macaroni and cheese. As the waiter sets the dish before my son, my husband and I watch in anticipation. We even give ourselves a pat on the back for finding such a luxurious AND child friendly option for dinner. My son smiles wide. “He’s gonna love it!” I think to myself.
Ben takes his fork and grabs up a hearty stack of noodles. They’re dripping with a blend of cheeses that make me regret ordering something else for myself. I secretly plan to ask for one little bite. I’m sure my husband is planning the same so I anticipate speaking up first to beat him to it. But my plan is interrupted when I see Ben’s face. Uh oh.
“THIS ISN’T VELVETTA?!” It’s loud. It’s unapologetic. Ben turns his nose up and pushes his plate far far far away. My husband launches over the table to claim it.
That was a year ago. And I still can’t get him to eat ANY type of homemade mac and cheese. He says he wants velveeta.