Another Letter from Phileas
I am so excited for today’s story; Phileas has sent us another letter while on his travels, and he wanted me to share it with all his friends.
Dear friends,
I am in Italy enjoying every minute of it, especially all the wonderful foods like pastas and pizzas, which reminded me of a story when I was a little boy, and I wanted nothing more but to share it will you all.
“Time for breakfast, Phileas,” said Mother, “I made scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Nope! Peanut butter,” I replied. “Phileas, please eat your eggs and toast,” she said.
“Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. “Phileas, peanut butter for breakfast?” replied mother. “I don’t think so. Come eat your eggs.” I scrunched my face, shrugged my shoulders, and put my hands on my waist. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I insisted. “Okay, peanut butter for Phileas. At least drink some orange juice,” pleaded Mother. After breakfast, I ran off to have an adventure with my favorite toys.
I was a quiet, smart boy of few words. Some might say I was hard to please, persistent, and picky…possibly even persnickety. The truth is I knew exactly what I liked and what I didn't like. I liked dogs…but not cats. I liked basketball…but not baseball. I liked school…but not homework. I liked green…but not pink. I liked the number 8… but not the number 7. I liked circles…but not triangles. I liked shorts (even in winter)…but not trousers. I liked sneakers…but not shoes. I liked candy…but not gum. I liked pizza parties… but not slumber parties. Most of all, I liked peanut butter, which he found positively perfect!
“Phileas, lunchtime. Please put down your toys and come eat,” said Mother, “I made you a ham and swiss sandwich on rye with a garden salad.” “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. “Phileas, please eat your ham and swiss sandwich,” she said. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. She reasoned, “Phileas, you had peanut butter for breakfast. Don’t you want something different to eat for lunch?” I scrunched my face, shrugged my shoulders, and put my hands on my waist. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I insisted. “Okay, peanut butter for Phileas. At least drink some milk,” pleaded my partially-perturbed mother.
After lunch, I went outside. I had lots of fun chasing my dog, Sammy, around the back yard. Before long I heard Mother calling, “Phileas, come in for dinner. Please be sure to wash your hands before you eat.” I left Sammy digging for a bone and I scrubbed my hands clean. “Here’s your spaghetti and meatballs,” she said. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. “Uh-oh, here we go again!” cried Mother, “You like spaghetti and meatballs!” “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. She asked, “ Aren't you tired of eating the same food?” I scrunched my face, shrugged my shoulders, and put my hands on his waist. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I insisted. “Okay, peanut butter for Phileas. At least drink some water,” pleaded Mother.
Day after day and week after week Mother would make healthy, nutritious food for me. She offered me lasagne, grapes, corn, macaroni and cheese, and bread. Day after day and week after week I predictably refused a dietary change. My favourite words became ‘Nope! Peanut butter.’ I had made my decision. He was sticking to it. I was perfectly happy eating peanut butter for breakfast, peanut butter for lunch, and peanut butter for dinner.
It made me powerful and popular! Word spread fast about the boy who consumed the same food every single day. The neighbors nicknamed me ‘The Peanut Butter Boy’. Wherever I wandered around the neighborhood a parade of children and squirrels followed!
Despite my popularity, my eating habits were becoming a problem. I was driving my mother nuts! I smelled like a giant peanut! (She feared I was growing into one.) At school, squirrels out-numbered the students! One by one, everyone, began eating my preference! Ms. Riley, my teacher, feared the worst. This addiction could spread to the entire school, the entire town. What would happen to the variety of well-balanced food served in the cafeteria or at restaurants? Meals would be boring and no fun. “How can I get the children to choose exciting, new foods?”, she wondered.
Mother received a notice from school. My class was having a pizza party. “Perfect!” thought Mother. “Phileas likes to cook. Phileas likes pizza parties.” Mother was thrilled. She hoped I would finally be sick of eating you-know-what and partake in some pizza. “Phileas, please come help me make a pizza for your class’s pizza party tomorrow,” said mother. I popped into the room, wash my hands, and rolled out the dough. She asked, “Can you please put the tomato sauce on?” “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. “Let’s put peppers on,” said mother. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I said. “How about pepperoni?” she asked. I scrunched my face, shrugged my shoulders, and put my hands on his waist. “Nope! Peanut butter,” I insisted. “Okay, peanut butter pizza for Phileas,” said Mother.
I brought my pizza to the party. “Who wants a piece of Phileas’ pizza?” asked the teacher. I raised my hand…and so did everyone else in the class. Ms. Riley let out a sigh of relief. I loved eating my pizza! Everyone loved eating my pizza! Even the teacher tried a slice. She said, “Mmm…Phileas, your pizza is tasty and delicious!” Did you use a special sauce in your recipe?” “Nope! peanut butter,” I said.
The End.
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