They’ve been doing a segment on nutrition in Kindergarten. Actually segment doesn’t really describe it, ‘the year of wellness’ probably comes closer. There was a visit from a kids’ yoga instructor. And most recently a visit from a ‘lifestyle and fitness’ expert.
I don’t mind these little presentations at all. Aside from being fairly liberal with the cookies, I am somewhat strict about what my kids eat and drink.
The only thing I mind is that the Gort is at an age where he takes everything very seriously. I don’t know yet if this is just his personality, or a phase, but he tends to accept new information in a very literal fashion. Which can lead to great unhappiness on his part, or at the very least some twisted logic.
I mean, this is the kid who, when my mom told him his eyes would turn square from all the television he was watching at her house, nearly started crying because he worried his eyes wouldn’t be obals (ovals) anymore. It was six months ago, and he still checks in with me every few weeks for confirmation that his eyes have retained their oval shape.
So he takes this nutrition business seriously and, at least once a day, he’ll look at me and ask: ‘mom, is [blank] hell-fee?’
As in: ‘are (dried) cranberries hell-fee?’ ‘is juice hell-fee?’ ‘is milk hell-fee?’ ‘is pizza hell-fee?’
Questions peppered with occasional proclamations about food he ‘knows’ to be healthy. ‘Water is hell-fee, right mom?’ ‘Fish is hell-fee, right mom?’
So I picked him up from school on Friday, half-forgetting that the aforementioned ‘lifestyle and fitness’ expert had paid them a visit. He was primed and ready to inform me the minute he got in the van.
‘Mom, we are only supposed to eat candy once a month!’ he alerted me. I chuckled to myself wondering how this new information would mesh with his desire for food coloring and corn syrup whenever we’re at a grocery check-out.
He repeated the news several more times, and finally I had to ask: ‘did they say once a month or once in a while?’
Because I couldn’t imagine anyone showing up at a school telling kids they could only have candy every thirty days.
‘I think they said once in a while,’ he decided.
He was still talking about the presentation when we pulled up to our house. ‘They asked what everyone’s favorite food is, and I told them salmon. And they said that was very, very, very, very, very healthy.’
I chuckled to myself about this kid who’d announced to all the Kindergarteners that he preferred salmon above, say, macaroni and cheese.
‘But we never tried fish before,’ he mused aloud.
I tried the obvious ‘salmon is fish’ logic, but that didn’t really yield the desired results.
The next morning he was making a snack for himself in the kitchen, when he shared more snippets of information.
‘If you get fat they have to cut you open,’ he told me.
And I really didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t conceive what piece of information he’d received and altered to come up with such a strange, seemingly irrelevant conclusion.
‘Who told you this?’ Why do they have to cut you open?’
‘My teacher told me,’ he answered, ‘they have to cut you open to get out the food.’
And before I could even respond to that, he continued matter-of-factly, ‘Suzie is a little bit fat.’ As though he’d told me his little school friend (whose name I’ve altered) had blue eyes.
‘She is not at all fat,’ I reprimanded him. Because she really isn’t. ‘And we never, ever say that about anyone!’
I’m not sure my tone or approach had the desired effect, though, as he replied in an annoyed slash obvious tone:
‘I only said she was a little bit fat. Not a lot fat.’