Embracing the Pizza Tax
Douglas writes: My family resides near an amazing pizza joint that, unfortunately, doesn’t offer delivery. While I don’t mind taking the drive to indulge in some pizza, I recently came up with the idea that my efforts deserve a little reward in the form of a slice on the way home. My family, however, is vehemently opposed to my so-called “pizza tax.” (If you decide to print this, feel free to call me “Spike.” It’s a name I’ve always fancied.)
There’s no denying that fresh pizza is utterly delightful, and I recognize that this behavior might be a quintessential example of a quirky dad move. Yet, it’s not exactly what one would call elegant. The essence of dad weirdness often transcends mere hunger; it’s more about thirst, as your teenagers might articulate (or perhaps they’ve long since stopped using that term). When I present my children with a disfigured cheese Pac-Man instead of a pristine whole pizza, that jagged slice is practically shouting: “Look at me! Even though you’re on the brink of adulthood and don’t necessarily need or cherish me in the same way anymore, I can still grab your attention by pilfering your food! I’m still here! And I long to be called Spike!”
Instead of this peculiar approach, consider ordering an extra slice (and perhaps a side of phase-of-life therapy) to savor quietly by yourself. You might just discover that this solitary enjoyment is even more satisfying.
