We’ve heard all the excuses in the book.
I’m too full.
I don’t like that.
It touched the dressing.
It smells funny.
It looks funny.
It tastes funny.
It’s too crunchy.
It’s too mushy.
I only like it when it’s by itself, not in something.
But this time, it was apples. And apples are his favorite. So when I asked the 3-year-old-boy-covered-in-marker to finish the apples off his dinner plate, food nearly shot out our nose when he shook his head no, held up his marker-covered-apple, and said, “The apple has been compromised.”
That’s a new one for the books.