Bug Salad

My wife knew that the kids and I wouldn’t understand, but she claims she had to do it anyway. "Ken, kids, I went to a health food store today. We’re changing our diet." "Oh," I said, scanning the dinner table. There was a plate of steaming chicken which I recognized. But, the salad and two bowls on the table were definetly holding plant life I couldn’t identify.

"I thought maybe you went fishing in a pond this morning." The kids looked frightened. "Well, you all know I’ve been reading that book about the health benefits of organic, natural foods," she continued. "So I got up the nerve and bought some new kinds of produce that the book recommended for optimal health."

"What’s this?" my son asked, poking at what looked like a giant dish scrubbie in one of the bowls. "Kale." "Huh?" "It’s a vegetable," she explained. "It belongs to the cabbage family." "Do they live down the street?" he asked. "And why don’t they want it?" She shook her head. "My book said kale is packed with important minerals." "So are rocks."

"Is this bamboo?" I said, pulling a yellow slab of something from the salad. "Yes, that’s also an excellent source of vitamins." "It’s a tree." "I told you I bought a lot of new things." "Like what else?" I demanded. "Shrubs, heather, maybe a hedge for dessert?" Ignoring me, she picked up the other bowl "I’m really excited about this," she announced, waving her hand across the soggy, green leaves like Vanna White pretending to be the Farmer in the Dell. "What is it?" I inquired sheepishly.

"Seaweed." "Smells really interesting," my son said. "You think it smells good?" I asked. "Sure, if you plug your nose like this, and don’t breath in through your mouth."

We passed the serving dishes around the table spooning up the vegetables onto our plates. "The best part about eating this way," my wife said in-between bites, "is that everything is one hundred percent organic. They don’t use harmful pesticides and bug sprays." "Does that mean there’s bugs in it?" my daughter asked.

My wife smiled. "The lady at the health food store did say to check the produce carefully, but I didn’t find one creepy-crawlie in the bunch. That sold me even more on eating organic." I smiled and told my wife I appreciated her concern for our health. She said the book had given her a new found mission in life to make us all healthy, and I began to see a certain appreciation for this building around our little table of four, until my son leaned over and said there was something green wiggling between my front teeth.

I pointed to the front of my face. "Honey, is this organic, too?" My daughter jumped up and ran towards the garage. "Where are you going?" I shouted as I jammed a butter knife between the gap in my teeth. "To get a jar with a few holes in the lid. I want to keep it." "Great," I exclaimed. "I’ll just sit here petting what’s left of it until you get back."

Thanks to my wife, eating is now much more of an adventure.
Ken Swarner writes the syndicated humor column Family Man for newspapers in the US and Canada. He can be reached at noifs@aol.com
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