There's a Party in My Tummy

Nutrition is for adults who are supposed to know better. Kids? Kids are stupid. They don't know that sugar and complex carbohydrates and sweet, sweet trans fats are tantamount to sticking a sharp stick in your eye. All they know is that the best foods are the ones with bright colors, goofy names and animal mascots.

They are, of course, completely right. Which is why children provide the perfect excuse to bring crap food into your house with the excuse of "testing it to make sure it's okay for our kids and maybe there'll even be a little left over that they'll actually get to eat."

1. Munchkins
If you live in God's country - that would be anyplace near a Dunkin' Donuts - then doubtless you're familiar with the scourge of Munchkins. To the uninitiated, Munchkins are the equivalent of donut holes... tiny little saturated fat-saturated nuggets of deep-fried quasi-breakfast goodness that come in conveniently-boxed packages of 25 or 50. Long a staple of cheap bosses trying to "treat" their team to an office breakfast, they're also a standard begging target of the much-desired "children aged 4 to 6 who live in my house and cost me money" demographic. Which is why, once every four to six weeks, I find myself hauling ass at the ass crack of dawn out to my nearest local Dunkin' Donuts (granted, I have several hundred within a 5-mile radius available to me) to grab a 25-pack of jelly, chocolate and glazed Munchkins for the kids... and two gallon-sized ice coffees for TheWife and me.

Inevitably, one or two Munchkins will leap free of the box... only to wind up in my or my wife's mouth. It's tragic and inexplicable, and yet it happens almost every time.

Don't look at me that way. It could be you. Hell: it probably is you.

2. Fluffernutters
Okay, so I realize that I'm coming off as hopelessly provincial here by focusing on another New England culinary delight horror... but if the shoe fits, wear it. I have to admit that I never recognized marshmallow fluff - and its natural evolutionary counterpoint the fluffernutter - as a regional phenomenon until I moved to San Francisco and suddenly found myself with an insatiable jonesing for a fluffernutter. Imagine my surprise (nay: dismay and sadness) when I discovered that there was not a single jar of Fluff to be found in the city.

And let's be clear: that "marshmallow creme" crap you West Coasters might find on your shelves? Calling that fluff is like calling Kaliber or O'Doul's or some other form of non-alcoholic "lager" a beer. It's not even remotely close to the truth.

In fact, the search for Fluff is one of the main reasons we returned to the welcoming bosom (mmm... welcoming bosoms...) of New England. Sure, TheWife might be under the impression that it was to be near family, or to be able to afford a house, or because we appreciate having discernible seasons. But she's wrong, and you and I both know it. We came back for the Fluff. Sweet, thick, tender Fluff.

Kids provide the perfect excuse to have Fluff in the house. I'll admit it: Fluff is not generally recognized as acceptable adult food. God help you if you're a single dude and you bring some comely young maiden  to your hip, happenin' bachelor pad and she goes to your kitchen to grab the both of you something sexxxy to bring back... and finds herself face-to-Fluff with your sweet tooth.

Not cool. But delicious, especially when paired with peanut butter on the bread of your choice to produce the fabled fluffernutter: the Lincoln Continental of sandwiches.

3. Hot Dogs
Let's be honest. None of us want to know what's in a hot dog. And even if we've successfully avoided acquiring full knowledge of what horrors lie within that savory casing... chances are we have enough of an inkling to ensure that if and when we do down a dog - usually, within the context of a baseball game - we feel some guilt about it.

Children change that completely. Hot dogs are the equivalent of Kiddie Chow: almost instantly-attainable meaty treats that set their little tails to wagging and their little hearts to pitter-pattering in nitrate-enhanced spasms of ketchup-encrusted joy. Having kids is basically shorthand for having hot dogs in your fridge. Always.

Of course, it's one thing to have hot dogs in your fridge to microwave for the fruit of your loins... and it's another thing entirely when grilling season comes upon you, and you move beyond the tasty powers of radiation to the pure caramelizing magic of an open flame. That's when temptation might sway you to look beyond the easy hot dog parameters of "whatever's on sale" or ye olde Oscar Meyer — and instead begin to explore the world of hot dogs with actual flavor. For my part, the tubular meat gauntlet was thrown the day three months ago when I picked up an 8-pack of Kayem hot dogs on a whim... good lord. The first time I grilled them for my kids and then swiped one off my daughter's plate for a bite was tantamount to the first time I tasted a really good glass of wine after years of experiencing it as only a cheap, bulk-purchase wedding banquet beverage: just an absolutely transformative experience.

Which is why I'm now compelled to taste-test every time I grill hot dogs for my kids now. It's not for my sake, you realize... it's just a quality assurance exercise, with my kids' best interests in mind.

You know how it is.

This is just a start, of course. Inevitably, there will be more to come.