Growing up, as any old kid being raised in the 90’s, there were certain rules about dinner time. For instance, we had to eat everything on our plate, even if we didn’t like it. I remember shoveling food in my mouth, hoping if I ate it fast enough that I wouldn’t be able to taste it.
Sidenote: my mom is an excellent cook, so it was rare that we didn’t want to eat everything on our plate, but you have to have broccoli every once in awhile. So back to eating everything on our plate. There were nights that no matter what was on our plate, we were going to eat it. Dessert nights. We knew we weren’t going to get dessert without eating what was on our plate, and so the reward was worth whatever “suffering” we had to endure to earn it.
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