Food & Drink

As one of the few people at my place of work with small children, I'm usually at the forefront of bizarre chid-related trends, especially odd child-targeted food items. Today, I was scooped by a childless co-worker who told me of the existence of the Grapple®, a thing of which I had until now been blissfully unaware. Apparently her well-meaning but ultimately misguided husband brought home a box last night, and both pronounced them inedible. What is a Grapple®, you ask (assuming you don't already know)? Apparently it's pronounced not "grapple" as in "grappling hook," but "gray-ple," as in unholy amalgam of grape and apple. Yes, it's an unassuming Washington Fuji apple injected, infused, and otherwise tainted with 100% natural Concord grape flavor. The company that produces these things has a website: www.grapplefruits.com.

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I've discovered that, based on the contents of our recently-emptied vacuum cleaner canister, only one in one-hundred Cheerios or Cheerios-like objects (hereafter known as CLOs), such as "[Trader] Joe's Os" or "Toasty-Os," actually make it into the mouth of the average toddler. The rest end up in various places throughout the house and car and, ultimately, the vacuum cleaner. CLOs, with their central holes, are tricky things to vacuum up, too. There's something about the hole that seems to counteract the suction and keep the little suckers planted firmly on the ground. Either that, or we need to buy a better vacuum cleaner, like one of those $400 Dyson jobs that shines your shoes and sorts your laundry, too (it had better do something other than just suck up dirt for that much money).

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The article on the front page (well, it's not there yet, if you're reading this Tuesday night) got me thinking about the phases kids go through in what they eat. Early on it was our goal, as parents, to get our children used to the unusual and interesting, and not be one of those annoying picky eaters that everyone knows. One of the experiences that led me to this decision was way back when I was maybe 13 or so. We had a family reunion at my aunt and uncle's house in Washington state, and I began to notice, after a while, that something was wrong. Every meal, with the possible exception of breakfast, included the anomalous dishes of hot dogs and taco salad. For example, one night they'd fix up grilled salmon and rice and a nice green salad... and hot dogs and/or taco salad. The next night, a casserole and... you guessed it. I eventually realized out that these were the only things my two cousins would eat!
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For my first-ever inaugural Marin Daddy blog post, I though I'd write about subject that's near and dear to the hearts of most dads—beer, and of course, spending quality time with the wee ones. At a recent after-work function I was with some colleagues at the Park Chalet in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. The Park Chalet is the slightly less touristy, downstairs sibling to the popular Beach Chalet brewery and restaurant in the historic building of the same name, located on the Great Highway at John F. Kennedy Drive, across from Ocean Beach.
So I'm here on a Monday afternoon, and I couldn't help but notice a steady stream of parents with small children entering the place. Most of them were headed toward the expansive lawn area in back, where they lounged in adirondack chairs, ate appetizers, drank beer, and watched their kids go nuts running around on the lawn. Did I also mention that it was $1 draft night? The Park/Beach Chalet makes a variety of tasty brews, all named after San Francisco landmarks past and present, such as Presidio IPA, Playland Pale Ale, and Fleischhacker Stout, all (or at least what I've sampled) quite tasty. They even make their own root beer, since you're bringing your kids and all. And they have food, too, including your standard pub-grub like sandwiches, burgers, pizza, etc.
Does life get any better than $1 beer and a place where you don't have to worry about the kids tearing around like crazy? Not if you're just one of those idle people who can go hang out at a brewpub on Monday afternoons and evenings, or if you can swing a Monday off, ("Hello, boss? Yeah, I'm feeling pretty awful today, I don't think I'm gonna make it in...").