I have this friend, let’s call her Peg, who doesn’t really
“do” vegetables. She doesn’t buy them, rarely eats them, and certainly doesn’t
cook them. She actually doesn’t really cook anything, save for microwaving the occasional
Lean Cuisine Meal.
You’d think that being the complete opposite of her, I’d be
less than enthused to interact with Peg, but in fact, that is not at all the
case. I feel the need to take care of her, to make sure she’s getting some kind
of sustenance besides blueberry bagels smothered in cream cheese. The girl
loves carbs.
At least once a week, Peg picks me up and we go to the
grocery store (because her fridge contains only Diet Coke and cheese
cubes) so I can make dinner. While she stocks up on bagels and freezer meals, I
gather up fresh produce, eggs, butter, and whatever else I’ll need to make
dinner and dessert.
Back at her apartment, I start puttering around in the
kitchen while she does homework at the dining room table. I know trying to get
her to eat a salad or steamed cauliflower is not going to happen, so I have to
get sneaky with vegetables. She informs me her mother used to try and stick
vegetables in pasta and Peg, stubborn even at age 4, would spit them out on the
floor and only eat the noodles. This friendship is preparing me for motherhood.
