Two things that I loved in this world when I was a kid… a really good meatloaf and a great game of kick ball… not necessarily at the same time though.
Meatloaf is a wonderful food with or without catchup on it. I love the fully loaded kind.. you know what I mean… the one with the onions and green peppers finely chopped and baked within the overall goodness of ground beef. God never created a better meal than meatloaf and mash potatoes. I’ll bet they serve it every day in Heaven. As much as I love meat loaf, my sister hated it. Well, not so much hated it but just never cared for the texture of onions. I believe it may have been the way they crunch between your teeth or something… but regardless. She didn’t care for it not one little bit if it was going to have onions in it.
Kickball was the sport of choice when I was young.. specifically we loved to play kickball in my parents front yard. It was the perfect dimensions with lots of grass to be easy on bare feet, permanent bases at equal distance from each other (don’t know how those places without any grass got there.. really, I don’t!) and a little hedge row that we could easily jump but would mark the area for a home run. We would always have a crowd over and the games would go on forever it seemed.
So, what do these two things have to do with each other? Well, one Sunday for lunch my mom made meatloaf. I was so excited. Just as we sat down to eat, one of my friends came knocking at the back door saying that they wanted to play kickball but they needed my sister and I to be able to play. Well, it just so happened that my mom and my sister were having a lively discussion about the finer points of why my sister WAS going to eat her meatloaf. There appeared to be some disagreement on the subject (I could tell by the loud voices and “the look” on my mom’s face… you know the one, even if you don’t know my mom).
Anyway, my mom told my sister that she would not be going anywhere until that meatloaf was eaten. Of course, mine was already gone and I had bolted out the door! After about 10 minutes (that is the equivalent of 6 months in kid’s time) I went back in to find out what was holding up my sister. She told me the story. I said, well… if the meatloaf has to be eaten for you to be able to come play, give it here. So I ate the meatloaf.
Mom returns and sees the plate clean, my sister points at the plate and says, “See, it’s gone.” (technically, that is correct and is not a lie.. but). My mom paused a second and said, “Who ate the meatloaf?” To which I immediately replied, “I did”. Let me ask you something… have you ever seen a look that could freeze water solid instantaneously outside.. in the month of July? Well, that was the look we got from mom. She walked over, cut another slice of meatloaf twice the size of the original, put it on my sister’s plate, looked at me and said, “I suggest you go back outside….now!” I thought this was an excellent idea. So I bolted for the door… but I did catch a glance of my sister, shooting me a look that appeared very much like the one I had just seen from mom.
The moral of this story, sometimes we just have to take our own medicine (or meatloaf as the case may be) if we want to get on with the games of life.