Should I be worried?
P's really letting us know what's what, these days. The other night, we were eating some unidentifiable vegetable from the CSA, and trying to figure out if we had cooked it wrong or whether it just wasn't a particularly yummy vegetable, and he looked up from his plate to chime in:
"This food smells like downtown Brooklyn."
Yup. Palate of an epicure, that one.
Also, he's ahead of the curve on his teenage rebellion/attitude. If we tell him to do something, (say, leave his shoes on when he wants to take them off) and he disagrees and we explain, ever so patiently, that we're about to go back outside and he should really leave them on cause otherwise he'll just have to put them back on as soon as he gets them off and that would be extra work for him, really, and then it would take us longer to get where we're going, he just says, ever so nonchalantly: "Whatevah." And takes them off.