What Did You Eat?

This is the question that starts every conversation I have with my mother and father. Even if I speak to both of them on the same night, they will both ask the question and I must - must, I tell you - answer them.

Unlike other questions of curiosity like, "How's the weather?", "What did you eat?" is my parents' thermometer on the state of my life. When you're happy you eat well; when you aren't you don't. Simple as that.

My brother, Rob, and I joke that this question is sometimes the only reason they call us. That they really don't want to or need to know anything else. That is, unless they don't like the answer.

Yes, this little phrase of four one-syllable words tells them all they need to know about my mood, temperament and overall health (both mental and physical). It is their gauge of my true level of happiness - at home, at work, in my relationships and in life.

So, tonight as I settled onto the sofa to eat and watch a rerun of Ugly Betty, I thought of my parents and hoped they wouldn't call tonight. It's not that I didn't want to chat, not at all. The truth is, I just didn't want to cause them any unnecessary concern.

Concern? Yes. Because tonight's dinner consisted of chips and salsa for Mr. Oh and a bowl of Special K for me. As you can tell from the pic, I import my Kellogg's cereal from Canada. There is a significant difference in taste, texture, colour and most importantly, the ability to stay crispy longer in milk.

Had my parents called and I reported tonight's menu, they'd pepper me with questions to understand what was wrong because snacking isn't dinner. And no dinner means something so much more.