A Memoir of Taco Bell, Cheese Theft, and the Boy Who Never Says He’s Full
Setting: August 2025 — Sharing food with the unofficial family taste tester
We walked to Staples and Taco Bell with my mom and Caleb one August evening, setting out for school supplies and also ending up with dinner.
Holden, as usual, kept one eye on his own tray and the other on mine.
He ordered cheese potatoes and a quesadilla. I had a burrito, nachos, and cheese. Before he’d even unwrapped his quesadilla, he was angling for a bite of my burrito. Then he spotted my nachos.
“Just one,” I said, then watched as he scooped up enough cheese to coat a small pizza.
Seconds followed. Then thirds. All this before his quesadilla had so much as been opened. My cheese was disappearing faster than my patience.
“Alright,” I finally told him. “Eat your own quesadilla.”
I didn’t finish my burrito, and of course, he happily claimed the leftovers. He polished it off after eating all of his own food.
Apparently, my dinner had been part of his order all along.
During the course of the evening, he sent me twice to fetch more hot sauce, as if the quesadilla were just there to hold it. When I warned him to be careful, that it might burn his lips, he asked what that would feel like.
“Are your lips tingling?” I asked.
He nodded yes.
Then poured on more.
Some kids clear their plate.
Mine clears the table.
This post is part of my One-Minute Memoir series — short reflections on small moments that still manage to say something big.
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