The moment we find out we’re expecting, the cravings begin.
For the mother, it may mean salty or sweet or sour or ALL OF THE THINGS.
For the father, it’s mostly whatever the mother of their child wants because, with the quantity required to satisfy the cravings of a pregnant woman, there’s not much physical space left over for whatever it is they want.
Buyers of warehouse-sized packages of Famous Amos, where you at?!
When that kid is actually on the outside though, all bets are off in the ‘What Parents Enjoy to Eat’ aisle. My guess is that this aisle is sandwiched somewhere between the ‘All The Great Sex We’re Having’ and ‘Consistently Full Nights of Sleep’ aisles in the department store of Parenthood.
Instead we’re stuck with the sweet cookies, now salted by the death grip of a toddler’s hand or the crusts of PB&Js, pizza slices, and pudding cups, half eaten and definitely left out a few hours too long instead of the coveted smörgåsbord of meats, crackers & cheeses or hearty pasta shaped like something other than Spongebob Squarepants.
There is the singular part of the Food Parentmid that never passes through the kid before hitting the lips and tastebuds of us parents though.
And that’s booze.