You are what you eat...

"You could have starred in that movie!" I said excitedly to husband-head as the ending credits rolled up the television screen. "You would've been PERFECT for that role!"
"Yes, I know," husband-head agreed. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful..."
We had just finished watching the 1996 movie "Jack", starring Robin Williams, in which he plays a kid who has a condition where his body grows four times faster than normal. Jack is a 10-year-old boy stuck in a 40-year-old man's body and trying to fit in with his 5th grade classmates.
At one point, his mother makes Jack's favorite dinner, Sloppy Joes, and comments that adults don't like Sloppy Joes.
This is one of husband-head's favorite meals.
"SEE?" I pointed at the TV. "I told you so! Normal adults don't eat that stuff - it's little kid food!"
Husband-head vehemently disagreed.
"Sloppy Joes are awesome!" he defended the dish. "Why wouldn't anyone like Sloppy Joes?"
But husband-head's food preferences have always leaned toward, shall we say, that of the younger generation. And after more than ten years of marriage, I'm still discovering what he will and will not eat.
For example, after about the 150th time I made chicken parmigian for dinner, he finally informed me that he didn't like it.
"Why?" I asked, totally surprised. "It's just chicken, tomato sauce and cheese. And why are you just telling me now?"
"Chicken and tomato sauce shouldn't touch each other," he said simply.
Just recently, I made a quiche using hash browns on the bottom of the dish instead of pie crust.
"Now this is good," husband-head announced after taking a bite. "You know, I was never a big fan of pie crust."
I tried not to count the number of quiches or pies I have made over the years...
I've always known husband-head doesn't like seafood, so I don't bother serving it and instead keep my own personal stash of shrimp and scallops in the freezer for when the grown-ups get together.
"How can you eat that stuff? It's gross," husband-head told me for the umpteemth time. "It's nothing but bait."
Left to his own devices, husband-head would live on macaroni and cheese, Beefaroni, pepperoni pizza and Hamburger Helper.
He used to love hot dogs and went on a daily mid-morning "hot dog run" to the nearby convenience store at work until his boss informed him of the ingredients of hot dogs...
But sometimes the little kid food thing is frustrating.
After a big shopping trip at the grocery store, I called my best friend Marianne to complain - not about how much I'd spent - but at what I had purchased.
"My refrigerator and my cupboards look like a pair of 12-year-olds are playing house here," I lamented as I observed the contents.
Lunchables...pudding packs...party pizzas...frozen burritos...Hot Pockets...chicken tenders...ice cream...
"Wow, that's what I have, too, only I have three kids," Marianne sympathized. "But my husband likes that stuff as well. I guess men are just big, overgrown kids, aren't they?"
The movie "Jack" was really starting to hit home.
The next morning, I was making husband-head's lunch - peanut butter and jelly on white bread, of course - as he got dressed for work.
"Would you like me to cut the crusts off, honey?" I asked, although I already knew.
Husband-head vigorously nodded his approval.
"You know, you are JUST like a 10-year-old," I sighed. "If you didn't have all that hair on your body, I don't think anyone would know the difference."
"If that's the case, then I shouldn't have to go to work!" husband-head cried out jubiantly as he headed back toward the bed.
I shoved his Spongebob Squarepants lunch pail in his hand and sent him out the door.
Later on that afternoon, husband-head called me from the office.
"What's for dinner tonight?" he asked.
I'd been busy all day and tried to think of something quick and easy.
"How 'bout Sloppy Joes?"