Ten months in America turned Dietrich into a lover of fast food, just like his dad. I cherished the opportunities to take Dietrich to Der Wienerschnitzel or Hot Dog On a Stick for a delicious corn dog. And we couldn't go for very many days in a row without being asked if we were going to have french fries with a meal. (All of this, by the way, is tough to reconcile with Josie's growing infatuation with Michael Pollan and his campaign against the not-food food items that we regularly consume.) I'd call us junkies, but we live in Ukraine where there is one, and only one, American-style fast food option and we try to limit our visits. Maybe you could call us American fast food junkies in absentia.
The real proof of this comes from conversions with Dietrich that go something like this:
Dad: Dietrich, what would you like to have for dinner?
Dietrich: Ummm, I wanna corn dog and fren fwies.
Dad: Well, Dietrich, we're in Ukraine now and they don't have corn dogs here. But we're going to McDonalds and they have french fries. What would you like with your french fries, a hamburger or nuggets?
Dietrich: I wan nuggits.
Dad: Ok, but are you sure you don't want a hamburger?
Dietrich: No, I no like hambuhguhs. Win I was liddo, I like hambuhguhs. But den, I saw the diesoaun [dinosaur] step onna — pschhhh! — an I no like hambuhguhs any moah.
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