I have a confession to make: I no longer like french fries.
This is a startling realization for me. The other day I ordered a burger and instead of fries I ordered a side of cole slaw. Why? Because I could not face the thought of eating a french fry.
Perhaps this is the result of too many meals eaten in the car as of late.
Back in the day, I guarded my fries zealously from those who would pinch them from their little cardboard carton. My mother was the worst offender, and I would get extremely irritated with her for mooching my fries. “Get your own!” I’d tell her.
Nowadays I find myself doing the same to Spawn. Oh how the tables have turned.
But is it just me, or have fries become less… tasty than they used to be?
While vacuuming out the car the other day (because the back seat had become rather dumpsteresque), I found some leftover fries in the floor. Heaven knows how long they had been there, but I’d say it was more than a week. And you know what? They looked just as whole and fresh as if they were right out of the carton.
Yeah. Not the most appetizing thing, come to think of it.
Let me tell you something. When you are a mom and you are relegated to eating quite a lot of meals in the car, the decomposition rate of french fries tends to take up more brain space than it should. Because, eww.
Don’t get me wrong, though — I still love a big ol’ plate of cheese fries and a bottle of ice-cold beer. But only once in a while.
Does this mean I’ve become an adult?