In which A's love of all things Gaffigan comes in handy...for him

So we're sitting at the dinner table this evening, enjoying a pan of chicken enchiladas and a refreshing strawberry-watermelon smoothie (or poovie as L likes to call them) to drink. Well, maybe enjoying isn't the right word. L spilled hers all over herself and the table while attempting a ballerina move in her chair, and A had convinced himself that he didn't like it. Violently. As in yelling and running from the room and hiding under the piano. So it was explained to him that if he didn't drink the smoothie, there would be no dessert. After a sip and a renewed distaste, I asked him what he didn't like:

"A, it's made of strawberries and watermelon. You like them both, remember."

"I just don't like it."

"Nonsense, you haven't even tried it."

"Yeah-huh. I took three swallows. I don't like the taste of them together."

"But if you like them apart there's no reason to not like them together."

"Strawberries, good. Watermelon, great. Strawberries and watermelon - nasty crap."

Thank you, Jim Gaffigan, for giving my six-year-old ammunition to use against me.