A week or so ago, David and I went to have dinner at some friends house. David is the pickiest eater in the universe so I was unsure how that would go. But we went.
Our friends have a fabulous house. They have the cutest dogs. We had a great time. They made chicken quesadillas for dinner. They were so good. David ate his right up.
Now you would think that even David couldn't be so picky as to not eat something as plain and regular and chicken and cheese. But these were not just plain old quesadillas. They had onions, and peppers and mushrooms. Three of David's most hated of foods. I said nothing.
We had a wonderful visit. We were out late. We so rarely get out and have so few real good friends. Besides, I work way too much.
After we left, I tell David how shocked I was that he ate that quesadilla. He said it was delicious. That is when I told him what was in it. He was shocked.
Perhaps he should be slightly less of a picky eater.