My older son is reading a book right now, in which one of the characters is described as mayonnaise because she "holds things together."
Being one of those moms that takes every opportunity to get a reality check from my kids, I ask him "So, what do you think I am?"
"Oh, you're the mayonnaise," he says.
"No, you're really the pickle - either people love it and devour it immediately, or they don't like it and they give it to somebody else.There is usually someone around who will eat the pickle." He laughs.
"No, seriously, what do you think I am." I think I sound desperate. Who wants to be a pickle?
"You're the lettuce - nobody likes it and if they have a choice they don't put it in. If it's in there, they don't care about it." Hee hee.
A few years ago, I asked him to describe me in one word. The same question to my friends that morning yielded descriptions like "easy-going" and "laid-back". He said "frustrated". Now, I have a chance to see if I have improved, and I am failing.
"Do you really think I'm the lettuce?" I ask in a seriously deep, questioning voice, as though I was asking him if he really felt it was okay to quit school or swim across the Pacific Ocean during monsoon season.
"No Mom, you're really the ketchup - adds flavour, nearly everyone likes it."
I wait for his laugh. I get a smile.
Woo hoo! My face lit up. I didn't question him this time. I'll keep the ketchup.