If I had any concern about your embrace of Italian-American culture, I have to look no further than Nutella.
You are on your way to becoming a spokesperson for the beloved hazelnut cocoa spread. You demand Nutella pancakes most mornings and some evenings. You prefer to spread Nutella yourself to ensure you have a heavy, frosting-like layer and don’t get stiffed on the thickness, which you examine at eye-level for approval.
Before Nutella, we were concerned that you ate enough most days. At infant and toddler stages you had a limitless palate. We bragged to other parents about the curries and exotic foods we could feed you. That has since diminished in these preschool and kinder years as you’ve become the pickiest of eaters. You’ll not only demand a pesto sauce over a marinara sauce on a pizza, but you’ll side-eye us if the pesto is of a certain green hue that doesn’t look like the usual brand. On the increasingly rare occasion you like the food put in front of you, you’ll take an extensive amount of time finishing a meal. You’re not a slow eater, just distracted and almost forgetful that you have food to eat.
Nutella is the antidote for the mealtime pains. You’ll eat buckets of the stuff if we gave you the chance. You’re willing to help cook the pancakes, knowing it inches you closer to Nutella. You eat quick and messy, not like the bird we dine with in the evenings. After a Nutella pancake meal we have to send you straight to the sink because your face and hands are covered. You look almost crazed, likely a side effect of the sugar.
I wrote in Matteo’s letter about how we got a new kitten, Luna. There’s a good chance that if she were brown, instead of grey, we’d name her Nutella. But then we’d just hear you ask for Nutella that much more.
We have no worries about your caloric intake now that Nutella is in the cupboad. I was silly to have bought a normal size container the first time. Now it’s on the Costco shopping list to buy by the mega pair, along with the right pesto.
Love,
Dad