I have taken to drinking smoothies for breakfast. They are pretty obnoxious green affairs. I see them as a vehicle for vegetables I might not get around to eating otherwise. I always wake up with all kinds of purposefulness and self-control, so it’s easy to dump the spinach, spirulina, grasses, and carrots etc. in while Eliot and Asa tuck into pancakes. And Asa will usually have a small glass too. This is only because he has never been exposed to a real smoothie. Poor brainwashed boy. I can already hear the conversation in a few years: “Why didn’t you tell me smoothies come in other colors — and are sweet?!?” I’m also letting Asa continue to refer to Santa’s elves as “eels.” I’m shirking parental responsibility, I know, but it brightens my day every time he asks whether Santa’s Eels might be able to make a particular toy in their workshop. Eels in green elf hats and little vests with white fur collars … trying to use hammers to make my son a miniature combine harvester. Snort!
And, for the record, my morning smoothie reserve and motivation deserts me about 3:30pm when the tortilla chips start yelling from the pantry. “Liiiiiiiiiiii-za! We’re as good as you remember! Have a beer and think about it.”