Hidden Squash

For four days, Joseph has chanted, "Macaroni and cheese, please."  So, I finally made his favorite for lunch - macaroni and cheese.  Toss out the blue box; I use a from-scratch recipe.  Perhaps it sounds gross, but Joseph's macaroni and cheese is loaded with hidden yummies that are also nutritious for him.  Pureed yellow squash cooks into the cheese sauce, while I drain the semolina pasta wheels in a colindar.  Then, fluffing tuna with a fork, I stir that in along with those wheels.  The macaroni and cheese dish bakes for twenty minutes, cools, and sits upon a plate waiting for Joseph.

"Mmm... that's good!" Joseph says, with a noodle sticking out of his mouth and cheese smeared across his chin.

If I had served yellow squash and tuna on the side, he would not have touched it.  What my toddler doesn't know will not hurt him!  (Yes, Jenny, I know you're cringing and gagging over the tuna part, but at least it's hidden!)

It reminds me of taking medicine as a child.  Or sucking on a lush lemon.  Or chopping a strong-scented onion and feeling like its juice is pouring from your eyes.  Or slicing a paper cut across your fingertip when shuffling through papers.  Or sizzling your skin on a hot dish when you forget those trusty hotpads.  Or pounding a hammer on your thumb, which was out of the way a moment ago.  Or smacking an elbow so hard your fingers tingle all day.  Or...  Perhaps I've relayed enough painful experiences.

Albeit difficult, it is rewarding when we look for the positives in any situation.  Even when nursing wounds and a prideful heart ashamed, it is better not to dwell upon how silly we feel.  Have you recently felt the head-rising rush that accompanies an awkward situation?  How did you turn your blush into a flush of laughter?