(This made more sense when I still had a preschooler.)

A Chat About Disease. With the Pizza Guy.

The doorbell rings.

How many Schleigers does it take to greet the pizza guy and pay him?  It takes all of us.  Dogchild to attempt to escape or knock over Pizza Guy.  Manchild to hold Dogchild back.  Me to sign the credit card receipt, indicate the gratuity, and confirm which of the 7 copies is mine.  Boychild to use this as an opportunity for a 10 second Show and Tell session.  And Girlchild, to drop some science.

Girlchild:  Pizza!  Is there a white pizza in one of those boxes?

Pizza Guy:  Um, I think…so…

Manchild:  Dogchild!  Get BACK!

Girlchild:  Because I can’t have red sauce for dinner.

Pizza Guy:  Oh.

Girlchild:  Because my belly doesn’t like it.  At all.

Pizza Guy:  Yeah?

Girlchild:  Yeah.  It makes me throw up.  LOTS.

Me:  Girlchild, now is not the time for that conversation topic….[sigh]…So which copy is mine?

Pizza Guy:  The bottom one of the four.  You can keep the coupon too.

Boychild:  You know, I have wots and wots of cars.  AND pwanes.  See?

Manchild:  DOGCHILD!  Get over here!

Girlchild:  It’s because I have a disease.

Me [suddenly afraid because Girlchild saw a donation box at Panera today for a Make-A-Wish child, and was asking questions about this whole wish/severe illness idea at lunchtime…”oh…shizzle,” I think…] :  Girlchild, the term disease is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

Girlchild:  No!  I have a disease!  What are the letters again?

[Dang it, why did I go into that much detail with her about GERD recently?  Because I want her to understand the things she can’t eat for dinner, but seriously, this is not the outcome I expected…]

Me:  Here you go-o!  That should do it! [I hand the receipt to Pizza Guy and start passing along the boxes to all the family members].  Girlchild, for the purposes of these conversations, you can use the word “heartburn”.  It sounds a bit less scary.

Girlchild:  NO IT DOESN’T, THAT SOUNDS WAAAAY WORSE!

Manchild:  Thanks!  Bye!

Girlchild: [louder voice to reach the escaping Pizza Guy, as well as, unfortunately, the entire neighborhood] I DO HAVE A DISEASE!  I DO!

[Kids are still standing at the door.  We try to herd them back in.  Pizza Guy pauses reversing his car and asks if there is a problem of some sort since my offspring are still staring at him.]

Boychild:  I just wanna see his truck.  Maybe I can show him my Toy Story pizza dewivery truck!

Manchild:  [loudly] No, no problem, they just want to….see your truck!

[Manchild closes door.]

Manchild:  Good grief, kids, no more contact with the rest of the outside world for you guys tonight.

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3 Responses to “A Chat About Disease. With the Pizza Guy.”

  1. SashaSpinelli

    My son would eat pizza 7 days a week if he could. thanks for the story, it is really funny! When I close the door at night, I think the same… I am glad we don’t have to relate with the outside world anymore. it is just us 🙂

    Reply

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