mama loves you [volume 3]

Dear Sir or Madam,

Y and I had a troubling conversation a few months ago.

We were on a walk around our neighborhood with Ike. Somehow, the conversation turned to Y's parents' expectation that he got As in high school "or else." (note: they deny this allegation.)

"I hope you don't plan to do that with our kid," I said.

"Oh I definitely will," he said. He was kidding. 


A few weeks later we flew to New York for a wedding. We took a cab from JFK to Grand Central Station to catch a train to the suburbs. Our short stop at Grand Central was our 15 minutes in New York City, and I needed something to commemorate the experience: PIZZA. Grand Central has the best pizza in New York, right? (that was a joke.)

I ordered my slice from a counter in the food court--I can't remember what type, only that it was dripping with grease--folded it in half and raised it to my mouth.

But before I could take a bite, I made a terrible mistake

I noticed the pizza place's health score. And I pointed it out to Y.


Not even a B+. Just a B.

"You can't eat that!" said Y. "What if something happens to the baby?"

I mean, it was sweet. But COME ON.

I settled for an "A" cookie instead. Both of us ignored the fact that if we were truly concerned about your health, we could have opted for like, a salad, maybe?

I worry for you, Sir or Madam.

If "B" pizza isn't good enough for Y to feel confident about your future, well, all I can say is I sure as hell hope you do well in school.

Mama loves you,

I ate ALL the food at the wedding. Hope it got an A+.