Friday night we had White Pizza - Pizza Blanca - Pizza Bianca again. Same tasty spelt crust, and this time, the toppings included caramelized sweet potatoes. I sliced the beauty into 8 equal portions. When the time came to finish up, eat the last slice, I reached over to the cutting board, nibbled delightedly, and then sat back and smiled at Village Papa.
There we were, together, satiated, the kids were playing nicely, the night was young and we had more time to catch up. When he began to speak I thought he was finally going to tell me how much he enjoyed this pizza even more than the last. Instead he asked 'you ate the last piece'? His innocence, his hurt, his baffled state was shocking.
I wondered why pizza can create such divides? I wondered how many people in these same 24 hours had gone through the exact same last slice-tension/seeming betrayal/pizza injustice.
Isn't it ridiculous/hilarious/weird life mystery how often this question comes up, or rather goes unspoken.
We sit there with our kids, our friends, enjoying a pizza, and there is lots of food, joyous abundance, yet someone is always trying to keep track of how many slices the others have eaten so s/he can figure out how many slices are his/her right.
I have decided that the next time we make pizza for dinner I will do two things: slice it into a minimum of 24 slices, so that if Village Papa asks 'you ate the last piece', I can say, yes, I ate 12 pieces and you did too. Twelve slices after all, 'should' be enough to satiate. Should. Plus, I pledge to always ask 'if I can have' the last piece before I just dive in.
What pizza injustice(s) have you witnessed, been party to? What is your pledge to change the outcome?
Sunday, June 8
The Last Slice
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3 comments:
this is super funny.
:)
Thanks Stephanie!
I hear ya!
All of our pizzas are sliced evenly and there is always the question on everyone's lips... mouth full, staring over the slice and asking "how many slice have you had," accusingly!
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