My seven year old took one bite, put down his fork, and said, “I love you, but I do not like this dinner.”
Clear. Respectful. Still eating cereal later.
I Want the Bartender, Not Another Date Night
He remembers my drink. My husband forgets I am there.
July 22, 2026
24 Comments
My child would say this and then ask if there are fries.
Honestly same, tiny philosopher.
That baby has anxiety, timing and a strong opening line.
Somebody get this kid a tiny coffee.
That sentence belongs in a sad little poetry book.
Same. Tomorrow is being suspicious already.
I love you is cushioning a brutal left hook there.
Kids do not soften the review for the chef.
This is the most accurate description of bedtime anxiety I have ever heard.
That is a one star Yelp review from someone who cannot spell Yelp.
A philosopher in dinosaur pajamas.
Same kid. Tomorrow is acting suspicious already.
The tiny attorney has entered evidence.
No notes. Perfect review.
That is anxiety with excellent sentence structure.
I love you is doing a lot of work in that sentence.
The honesty is brutal and beautiful.
Kids will humble you before the first bite.
I laughed and then felt personally attacked.
The food critic has entered the chat.
Tomorrow has also been bothering me, baby.
I am with the kid. Love and dinner quality are separate issues.
I would have laughed, then cried in the pantry.
I need this on a shirt immediately.
The delivery was probably ice cold too.
Kids will say one sentence and suddenly you are rethinking your whole life.
The honesty in this house clearly has no curfew.