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Danger! Spinach lurking ahead!

Submitted by on Monday, 25 May 2009 No Comment

big_guy_grinBig Guy loves spinach.

He gobbles it in marinara, complaining, in fact, about commercial varieties that don’t have enough “spice.”

If you tell him he likes it, though, he will deny it to his dying breath. He’s so insistent that spinach has become one of our running jokes.

“What’s for dessert?”

“Spinach ice cream.”

Spinach ice cream? Ewwwwwwwww.”

“But you said the other day you like all ice cream. And this is ice cream.”

“You’re tricking me again, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

Tonight, I didn’t even have to trick him. No subterfuge, no parsing. Just a quick covert move in the grocery store and we were on our way. At no point did I lie. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.

I spotted the fresh spinach as soon as we hit the produce aisle. It was on sale, and it looked good. I sidled up to the counter, grabbing the contraband with my left hand while I quickly pivoted to the right, using my body to shield the spinach from Big Guy’s view.

He was busy trying to navigate the cart around a steady stream of traffic, so he didn’t notice something new in the basket. Boots was busy laughing at his brother trying to navigate the cart, so he didn’t catch me either.

I had a cover story ready in case anyone picked up on it. “It’s lettuce.” That wouldn’t have been exactly untrue, based the definition in Oxford dictionaries: a cultivated plant with edible leaves that are eaten in salads. There you have it. Spinach is lettuce.

Big Guy was busy playing fence volleyball with the girl next door as I made dinner, depriving him another chance to catch me green-handed.

The spinach was close in hue to the top of the leaf lettuce we normally eat, so I was confident of passing it off. I carefully removed the stems and buried them way in the bottom of the garbage lest prying eyes light on them.

Then another problem cropped up: The flat spinach leaves weren’t even close to the curly leaf lettuce. I sorted the salad greens and tore the spinach into smaller bits. I did the same with part of the leaf lettuce just for good measure.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Big Guy was glad to see the salad because an excuse to eat too much ranch  always is preferable to corn, which was our other vegetable. He heaped it on his plate, topping it with enough dressing to drown a small village.

He munch happily, even serving himself seconds.

Boots, on the other hand, wouldn’t touch it. I was so wrapped up in spinach shenanigans that I’d forgotten to put “his” carrots in the salad. Good thing Boots likes corn.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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