Where’s the beef?
The wife and I have been thinking about cutting certain things out of our lives. The first was bottled water. The second more ambitious project was the elimination of fast food. The latest trip to the grocery store resulted in the usual case of water staying on the shelf. It did not stop the bag of Wendy’s coming home for lunch, though.
And so, the boy is too caught up in being the comedian at the kitchen table to eat his burger and I’m getting frustrated.
“I’m just eating the bread,” he said.
“I need you to eat the burger, too. You know,” I said. “Back when I was younger, there was an old lady on TV who screamed WHERE’S THE BEEF? in Wendy’s commercials”
The kid thought this was exceptionally funny and laughed in the right places. I thought he got the joke.
“Hamburger isn’t beef, Daddy!”
While he might have had a point about the Wendy’s burger, I felt like I should set him straight, just in case he ever ended up inside a real burger joint.
“Hamburger is beef, D. And beef comes from cows.”
The kid laughed like I’d just ripped my nose off.
“Beef doesn’t come from cows, Daddy. Milk comes from cows!”
“Well, so does beef, buddy.”
The kid just said, “Noooooo…”
“Alright then,” I said. “Where do hamburgers come from?”
Now L’il Otis got serious and looked at me like I was about to turn three instead of him.
“From the kitchen where they cook them, Daddy.”
The kid makes a lot of sense sometimes.