My youngest son is not picky, with the exception of pizza, hot dogs, and breads (unless it’s a bakery loaf.) He loves new restaurants, enjoys picking out new recipes (“Mom, we should try this one!”), and will usually eat any home cooked meal he’s served. His faves include potatoes in any form, butter chicken (but not the way I make it), and rice and peas. (Grandpa’s are still his favourite.)
The last few weeks he’s been asking for burritos… but not at-home burritos – fast food burritos. The closest burrito bar is about 25 minutes from us. Considering it’s the last official day of winter break… and that I have to pick up Kaleb’s skis from the pro-shop across the street from a Mucho Burrito, we decided to have a lunch date today and finally get our burritos..
That is my priority. I have a million other stops to attempt, and I know running a full day of errands means he’ll most likely get on my nerves. (Honestly, we haven’t left yet and I’ve already spent most of my vocal time encouraging him to stop. Stop what? Well… everything.) But lunch today is more than just a burrito.
It will be a phones down, one-on-one pause in our busyness. It’s recognizing that the days are long, but the years are short… and one day, I’ll be fighting for his attention. It’s reminding him that he’s a person of importance in my life. It’s a chance to laugh, dig into what’s on his mind, and make memories together. It’s solidifying that presence is important, family matters, and that relationships take intentional nurturing – even if it’s just over fast-food burritos.
God grant me patience… and here’s hoping for no heartburn.