Sat down the eat last night and Zane didn’t want anything except to pick a few molecules off the top of his bread. His Dad is grumbly. His Mom is all subterfuge. “Here, would you like some salt on your mashed potatoes?” she asks sweetly (the mashed potatoes shunned less than a minute ago). “Yes!” he says and wolfs down a handful of salted potatoes. “How about salt on your meat?” “Yes!” And so the meal went, the little chemical factory in Zane getting all of the salt it wanted as well as the food it needs to boot. What he really wanted was salt on his hand, but Mom made a quick rule regarding no salting of hands at the table and that seemed to be acceptable. He even sat there and scooped out the rest of the avocado, feeding himself in the process.

Score: Mom 1, Dad 0.