You know how kids are when they are little and everything is big and surprising? Supergirl seems to have lost that. Last night, when she asked for her dinner, I tried to get her surprised or, at least, a disgusted response, instead, I got this.
“What are we having for dinner?” This question. Every night with this question. Why is this my job? Is there not other people involved that might be able to figure this out? Maybe?
“How about duck?”, I inquired, as though it was quite normal to have duck for dinner on a Monday. I bet I could think of a few people that would eat duck for dinner on a Monday, but as someone who has never had duck, who wouldn’t even know where to find or buy a duck, it all seems very rich and somewhat obnoxious to me.
“Yes, I love duck”, she responded casually like it was no big deal, like she is really just Suri Cruise walking around in a Supergirl costume. The child puts on airs, ya know?
“Really? So you have eaten duck?” I am baffled. I try to think of where my child could have eaten duck ever, ever in her lifetime.
“Actually, baby ducks.” She is not even reacting here, as though it is not a big deal at all. I imagine her in some sort of exotic and endangered animals dinner club where they eat Bengal tigers and Florida panthers just because they are rich enough to pay people that will prepare it.
“Baby ducks, huh? Where did you eat the baby ducks?” I am starting to think this is all part of some story that she has just made up. A fictional tale about a little evil girl that eats baby ducks. Surely, my daughter would not just pick up freshly hatched furry little chicks and pop them in her mouth like a small bon-bon.
“At Iiya’s with Scare Bear and Blade.” (What? What is she even talking about? I am about to have to call the Scare Bear to muddle through this at this rate.)
“Oh yeah? What did you have with the baby ducks?”
“Chicken. They called it chicken and ducklings.”
Oh. I said, breaking into a smile and trying not to laugh. “How do ducklings taste?”
“And what do ducks taste like?”