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 green.

It’s orange.

It’s brown.

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.