I bought Oreos the other day as a special treat for Caleb, who’d gotten shoved on the playground and had to go to the nurse. (Yes, that would be me, equating food with love. Sue me.)
Alas, even in the scheme of injuries, Caleb this week came in second to his brother, whose head met a teammates’ foot during a soccer scrimmage last weekend. Liam came home with a huge scrape and a lump the size of an ostrich egg on his forehead. No concussion but as my father used to say, he definitely got his bell rung.
So. Oreos for the wounded. I got the fancy kind – vanilla cookie on one side, chocolate cookie on the other side.
Tonight, as Liam ate his Oreos, he got up and looked at the ingredients list. See? I buy junk food but then teach my kids that it’s crap. I think they call this a mixed message.
Liam: I can’t even pronounce some of that stuff.
Me: I know, it’s mostly chemicals.
Liam: Well, these aren’t real oreos.
Me: They are Oreos, but with a vanilla side as well as a chocolate side.
Caleb: Ezzackly. Made by the same company.
Liam: No. These are not authentic Oreos.
Me: Authentic Oreos? The chocolate ones? It’s the same – same chemicals, same filling, one different flavor cookie.
Caleb: I like these ones better.
Liam: No. These are totally fake. The real ones are much better. And healthier, because they’re real.
An “authentic” Oreo. What would Michael Pollan say to that?