The Hunger Strike

Mark was "too sick" for his basketball game on Saturday.  (I'm sorry Adam.  I know you wish our children felt about basketball like you do.  I don't know what went wrong...some of my siblings love basketball.)

I don't know how sick Mark was.  He seemed completely fine, except he wouldn't eat because his throat hurt.

It was concerning to me.  There's this thing about my children that you should know, they're eaters.  And when they won't eat, I worry.

I poured him a glass of cold juice with a bendy straw and he wouldn't drink it.  He winced when he swallowed.  He lay under a blanket with the Wii remote in hand and every time I walked by I said, "Have a drink," and he ignored me.

At lunchtime I made him a sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk.  He wanted neither.  I insisted he take a bite of the sandwich which he did and then started to cry because it hurt to swallow.

So I told him to at least drink his chocolate milk (which he wouldn't do) and when Adam got home I told him Mark was on a hunger strike.  Adam said, "OK," and didn't seem too worried because he's the dad and he's Adam and not easily excitable.

I decided to try to tempt Mark with a recipe from Emma's American Girl "Treat of the Month" calendar.  She's been hounding me to make this month's treat.

They were so icky sweet I think I got three cavities.

Mark drank a little and offered the rest to anyone who wanted it.  He did, however, stick his face in whipped cream and strike a silly pose.

as you can see, he was only on a hunger strike, not a Lego strike

We left Emma in charge of the boy who had eaten maybe 10 calories all day and took Braeden with us to go van shopping.  (We're in the market since our current van is limping along...and Braeden feels like he needs to be in on things.  He's really good at being an oldest child.)

As a rule, Adam immediately dislikes and mistrusts salespeople so I am usually the one who initially begins the conversation in such situations.  (Later Adam continues the conversation because he's naturally more curious than I am and has a longer attention span...I start fiddling with knobs and he asks questions I never would have thought of.)

The salesman sat us down and started asking us (me) questions.  He said, "So are you interested in leather seats?"

"Yes."

He wrote down 'leather'.

"Heated seats?"

I shrugged.

He wrote down 'heated'.

"Are you interested in safety?" he asked.

I couldn't help it.  I said, "Do you sell cars that aren't safe?"

He didn't really answer and wrote 'safety' on his paper.

Later we sat in the van that was spaceship-like enough to thrill Mark had he been there.  Adam asked if we could try out the bluetooth system so we called Emma and Mark.  Mark answered and his voice rang out over the van's speaker system.  Emma chirped in the background, "Mark broke his hunger strike!"

We said "OK!  Well, good-bye."  And I felt relieved.

(And if he didn't already think so, our salesman realized he was dealing with a slightly odd family.)

We are no closer to making a van purchase. Braeden has been feeding Emma and Mark the details and they've been poring over the brochures we brought home.  Emma said, "I'm keeping an open mind."

Braeden said, "I'm being very objective."

But we all know what they want.  We also know they're not going to be contributing any money...just opinions.