In “Roly-Poly,” his loving description in song of his little
boy, Willie Nelson says, “He likes everything from soup to
hay…Ham and eggs for breakfast…Bread and jelly twenty times a
day.”
That must have been back in the fifties, because it sounds kind
of like me, nicknamed “Pudge” by my mates. Nowadays, under the
relentless influence of television and marketing, little boys eat
differently. Not any worse, I don’t think, the main idea being to
yonk down as many calories as possible. But different.
My shopping list, assembled by our housekeeper, looks like
this:
Soft taco mix
Hamburg
Chk (chicken)
Marinade
Chicken tenders
Hot dogs
Mac & cheese
Juice boxes
Ramen
Ketchup
French fries
Juice boxes
Tuna fish
Jif
Jelly
Snacks for Joe’s lunch
To be fair, that’s two weeks’ worth. That all-purpose category,
“snacks for Joe’s lunch,” gives me the most trouble, and causes me
the most pangs to my conscience.
We pack a lunch for Joe, now in second grade, to take to school.
We could give him money for a school lunch, but we found out with
older son Bud that those lunches tend to the greasy, and upset his
stomach.
Plus, we can never be sure what he’s going to buy. Bud, who
turned into a health nut by the fifth grade, would, when we gave
him money, buy salads and non-fat milk.
Joe, given his head, would buy potato chips and snack crackers.
The supermarket gives over entire aisles to that troublesome
category known in the industry as “salty snacks.” Joe loves
them.
Cheez-its. Doritos. Pringles. Peanut butter cracker snack packs.
Cheese cracker snack packs (cheese, right). Cool ranch crackers.
Pretzels. Fishies.
Each of these snacks illustrates a modern tendency I call “brand
sprawl.” Fishies, the little fish-shaped crackers, now come in
various cheese flavors, pretzel flavors, and heavens knows what
else. That helps such foods take up as much shelf space as
possible. You have to look hard to find “original” Fishies.
AT SOME POINT, parents just gave up on trying to feed little boys
anything “healthy.” Just jam the calories into them and hope for
the best. Joe, like many boys, alternates between eating enormous
amounts and eating almost nothing. Take him to his favorite
doughnut shop in the morning and he’ll yonk down two bagels with
cream cheese, accompanied by “blue Powerade.”
(I ask you, is anything blue fit for human consumption?)
At other times, he refuses anything but bowl after bowl of
Ramen, the Japanese packaged noodle soup, flavored with salty
chicken or beef powder, which sells for about a quarter, and is
worth just about that much. He likes to flavor it with hot
sauce.
Yet again, some mornings Joe will get up and refuse to eat
anything.
Such a diet, you’d think, would create “Daddy’s little fatty,”
as Willie Nelson wrote. But no. Joe, along, with most of his
friends, is lean and muscular, with defined abs.
I have no idea how he gets away with it. “Bet he’s gonna be a
man someday.”
