A Household Word: Individual Taste

I figured that by rearing three rugged individualists, they would be less likely to be bullied on the playground, pressured into sniffing glue or convinced to join the Moonies. I never thought it would affect our pizza order.

Let me explain. These summer nights, my 10-year-old son plays for a AAA Little League team. That means that three or four times a week I go to the field to watch him goof around on the bench with other boys and stand in left field until it’s too dark to see the ball. That also means that by the time we get home, my other two kids are gnawing on each other’s flesh and there’s no time to cook. On these nights, we order pizza.

Calling for a pizza is the no-brainer of being a mom. It’s like dialing your lifeline on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? or having a “Get Out of Jail Free” card in Monopoly™. And, frankly, this time of year I call that culinary lifeline a lot. In fact, on garbage day I sometimes hide the embarrassing empty pizza boxes in the neighbor’s trash cans so no one will accuse me of being addicted to mozzarella or suspect me of having an affair with the delivery man.

I order pizza because it is one of the few food items that all three of my kids will eat (lobster and Marshmallow Fluff™ are the others) and because, if it’s not nutritionally ideal, well, at least it’s cheap and quick.

The problem is, my nonconformist kids feel compelled to express their individuality every chance they get – even when ordering pizza. Especially when ordering pizza! I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise. They can’t agree on anything – not what radio station to listen to in the car, not what type of toothpaste we should buy, not what color cheese (white or orange) is best on macaroni. So, it makes sense that they don’t agree on what kind of pizza to order.