A Nugget Of Blurb


I’m a really fussy eater. I can’t help it, I haven’t chosen it, I just am. It probably began with the ‘I’ll eat peas when I’m 4’ incident and has continued throughout my life.

Unfortunately so is Joe. Ben, not so bad, but Joe was and still is hard to please.

So as you can imagine, having some food item knocked off this small list, would be very bad. Now I use the word food loosely, as this story relates to an experience at McDonalds, but even so let’s keep the list growing rather than shrinking.

So . . .

Joe was around 7 or 8 and we’re in Maccies, we’ve sat down and we’re tucking in.

Joe was eating his chicken nuggets, which he loved, but I noticed he was transfixed on the ‘blurb’ printed of the box.

“Dad . . . “

“Yes son.”

“It says here that these are made of chicken breast.”


“What . . . like breasts?” gesturing to his chest with his hands, in a cupping motion.


Please, no Joe.

“So I’m eating a chickens tits?”

“Sort of, but it’s the chest, not ‘tit’s in the way you mean.”

Silence and pondering ensued for what seemed like hours, when in reality it was seconds.

“Cool.” He exclaimed as he bit into a fresh one.

The relief I felt was huge. He must have been in a good mood, as similar conversations had led to him casting something out, never to pass his lips again.

The weird thing is, he doesn’t like chicken breast, as in whole chicken breast, just nuggets. How can you like chicken nuggets and not real chicken breast?

There’s no comparison. It simply doesn’t make sense. Kid’s are strange. End of.