The Banananana Bread Incident

Headed out for a 'run' this morning. I use the term run loosely. When pushing a 35 pound kid in a stroller while dragging a reluctant 70 pound dog behind me, it can hardly be called a run. More like a mobile circus. We make frequent stops for sniffing, peeping, and pooping (canine), along with saying good morning to the ducks, taking off our shoes and throwing them on the ground, and looking for garbage trucks (toddler). It's really a wonder I get up past the speed of trudge, let alone running.

So, on this particular morning, the kiddo had a small bowl with pineapple and a piece of my homemade, allergen-free banana bread in tow. Both things he normally loves, but was refusing to eat, for some reason. As if he's above my cooking or something.

We get to the park and pause to have our obligatory "Hi Ducks! How are you?" conversation (those ducks are poor conversationalists, let me tell ya). Then the kid starts to whine. "Feed the ducks, feed the ducks, feed the ducks banananana bread" (and yes, he does say banananana, it's freakin' cute!).

Ok, really. I bake allergy safe bread just for him because I know he likes it and he wants to throw it on the ground amongst duck shit so the ducks can feast? Seriously? Fine, if it means we can attempt to run, I'm down.

I tear off some chunks and hand it over to the kiddo, whose chubby hands toss it as far as they can. Which was all of like 2 feet from the stroller. We have to back up so the ducks are willing to come check out the goods without fear of my mutt attacking them.

Several come up, sniff the bread, and then walk away. I watch in disbelief. The same animals who swim in a feces filled pond are refusing to eat fresh bread? What the fuck, ducks, you too good for my vegan banana bread? Seriously? See if I ever bring stale bagels to the park for you again!

The toddler realizes the ducks are refusing the bread and starts to cry. Yeah, now he knows how I feel EVERY FREAKIN' MEAL! The times he refuses what I cook for him far outnumber the times he actually eats my food.

He then begins to demand to get out of the stroller. Tantrum time. Oh crap, there goes this peaceful run. I turn the stroller back to the path and begin to jog, ignoring his screams, and the looks of the elderly couple walking towards us. Dumdedum, don't mind us!

Then, the tire on the stroller goes flat. Seriously?

I manage to make it home, practically carrying the stroller, while dragging the dog. And what does the kid want when we get home? Banananana bread.