So The Munch has been gluten free for almost 5 months now. As much as I don’t trust people who are “gluten free,” and part of me thinks it is a new-age eating disorder – I have seen positive results.
For one, The Munch has not gotten sick once since she has been on this diet. Now, I live in New England, where most winters everyone gets at least 3 colds, 2 flus, and some sort of weird hybrid stomach virus. If you were to peruse the blogs of my past, there are probably 20 where I am complaining about Munch being ill. Considering she goes to school now, and is around snotty nosed cesspools all day, it is kind of impressive that she has managed to stay so healthy.
Yet I feel bad for The Munch having to harbor this concern so young. She asked me the other day is pears were gluten free. When I was a kid I ate gluten sandwiches on gluten bread for lunch, and my child is concerned about gluten lurking in carrot sticks. So in solidarity with The Munch, I am gluten free too. I don’t buy things for the house that she can’t eat… because I am a good and noble person.
Buuuuuut…. Last night I was having a sleepover at my friend Gita’s and she lives near this organic Pizza place that I LOOOOOOOOOOOVE, and never get to go to. So you better believe that is what I wanted for dinner!
Gita: Why don’t you guys come pick me up, and then we can drive and get the pizza before we drop off the car and unload your stuff!
Toni: I can’t do that. Munch will see the pizza. I can’t do that to her. You have to go and get it while I am putting her to bed.
Gita: Fair enough.
Of course because we are in a new place it took forever for Munch to get to sleep… and so by the time Gita came back with the Pizza I could tell she was still awake. But I couldn’t wait to eat it, and started digging in. But every noise I heard, I panicked thinking Munch was getting out of bed and coming into the living room, and my reaction was to hide the pizza… I didn’t want to get caught cheating on The Munch!