Favorite Things

As I’ve mentioned before, Mom has a tendency to ask “What’s this” about 85 percent of the time when I put her dinner plate down in front of her.  I don’t know if this has become a habit and the question pops out without her being consciously aware that she’s asking or if she’s simply trying to make idle conversation or if she truly can’t identify common foods like chicken and stuffing, pot roast or grilled cheese.

The other night, after I delivered her dinner of French Dip and au jus, she stared at it for a second and then asked, “Is this a little bowl of soup?”

“No, Mom.  It’s au jus for dipping.”

“Dipping what?”

“One of your favorite meals,” I said as a hint, since this is what she always claims French Dip is to her.

She continued to stare at the roast beef-stuffed French roll, clearly baffled, before she commented, “Well this certainly doesn’t look like spaghetti to me.”

“It’s not,” I exclaimed.  “It’s French Dip.  You know, your favorite.”

“Oh, okay, if you say so,” she conceded.  “But it’s only my favorite after spaghetti.”  She paused, picking up the sandwich and examining it for a moment before she added, “And it definitely comes after taco salad and blueberry pancakes.”

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