On a good day, children have bizarre and borderline disgusting eating habits. When it comes to condiments, mine go off the charts.
My youngest son will demand ketchup, and ketchup alone, at a restaurant. I went through half of a bottle at Denny's once trying to keep him from causing a scene. He has also eaten an entire cup of cocktail sauce while claiming it was ketchup.
My oldest son, I saw him dip a piece of fruit in BBQ sauce then proceed to wolf it down. If I thought long enough, I might be able to come with a fruit that might work with that. But this was watermelon.
I probably just need to fight back a little, with a little gross-out of my own. Perhaps I'll serve up their plates of ketchup and BBQ-melon, and I'll have a heaping plate of mayonnaise.
My brain is a curious thing. It bounces from place to place, from the exceedingly strange to the terribly mundane. Every once in awhile, something will pop into my head that is just completely out of nowhere. Totally random.