A Question of Paternity

Lately I have been wondering if Toby has pulled a fast one on me in that Max may not be my son. Over the last couple of months he has begun exercising on his own a lot. It started off with push-ups but has progressed. He does push-ups before AWANA meetings so that he can win at the games and he does push-ups before his AYSO soccer games so he can run fast. While visiting the Neinhuis’s for Thanksgiving he found a set of 5# dumbells and did curls and presses in front of a full length mirror. If it was just the exercise, I would be very pleased. But it has gotten to the point where he has become the health police in the family. Last week, I was having a grilled cheese sandwich and he told me that my muscles were going to get small because I was eating white bread. Someone (I suspect Toby) told him that white bread is not as good for you as wheat bread. He will only eat the brown bread because it has vitamins for muscles. I could even overlook this white bread thing as just some brainwashing by his mom or my dad. But this past weekend he decided he didn’t want to eat sugar any more. Now this is not something that any son of mine would ever do. He didn’t want any pie, he didn’t want any whipped cream. He didn’t even want any soda. What is the deal? The final straw occurred when we were at Denny’s for breakfast on Saturday and he didn’t want any syrup on his pancakes because syrup has sugar in it!!! I don’t think any progeny of mine could ever eat dry pancakes when syrup was available. (I got some honey packets and convinced him that honey doesn’t make muscles small, it was almost difficult.) On Sunday morning, as I was getting Lucy out the door, Max was doing sit-ups (crunches, really) in the living room while waiting for us to go out the door. I know he is my son, but where is he getting these wacky ideas, especially about our friend sugar?