Member-only story
Backseat Driver
Family Lines
The pot roast sat untouched. Jessica stabbed at a carrot, avoiding her mother-in-law’s gaze.
“You’re giving Liam those cheese crackers again?” Barb’s fingers drummed against her water glass. “I saw on Dr. Phil they’re basically poison. All those artificial colors.”
Jessica’s jaw clenched. She’d battled rush-hour traffic with a screaming three-year-old and a kindergartener who’d refused to wear anything but his Batman costume. Now this.
“They’re the organic kind,” she muttered, slicing apples for Emma. “No dyes.”
“Hmm.” Barb’s skepticism hung in the air like cheap perfume. “Still processed food. When Drew was little, I made everything from scratch. Remember those zucchini muffins, honey? You’d eat five at a time.”
Drew suddenly became fascinated with napkin folding.
Jessica pressed down with the knife, the blade’s thwack against the cutting board oddly satisfying. They’d heard about those damn muffins at every family dinner since 2016.
“Our pediatrician isn’t concerned about their diet,” Jessica said.
“Doctors today.” Barb clicked her tongue. “Back when Drew was small, Dr. Mitchell actually cared about nutrition. This new generation of doctors just wants kids on Ritalin.”
