An Ode to Mr. Noodles

So today I had Mr Noodles for lunch. Spicy beef flavour. A rare indulgence - but such a good one.

When I was a little gaffer, about yay tall and sporting lopsided pigtails, my mom used to make me Mr. Noodles once in a while for lunch... it would always be around noon, when the Flinstones were on, and while she cooked the soup she would give me the crackly little bits of dry noodle that break off in the bottom of the package. I'd sprinkle these on my little blue table in front of the tv and then dab them into my mouth one by one with my tongue... to this day, the Flinstones theme song and the bits of noodle at the bottom of the Mr Noodle package are forever intimately connected in my mind!

That probably hardly ever happens anymore. Parents probably don't let their preschoolers watch the Flinstones in the middle of the day while eating Mr Noodles. Kids are probably fed some lowfat-starch free-sugarfree-high in calcium-lean-vitamin enriched-vegan-tofu-free range crap while they watch taped highlights of last year's spelling bee. Poor tots. They don't stand a chance.

Hey, whenever I'm the least bit hungover I always crave Mr. Noodles. Jen once speculated that my body might know that the grease would be good, soak up the bad juices or something... and she's the sciencey one, so she'd know. Me, being the fanciful type, think it's because being hungover means being sick, and being sick means having your mom take care of you, and having your mom take care of you means her making you Mr. Noodles while you watch the Flinstones. Simple. So thanks, Mom! You hugged me today (in a "spicy beef" kind of way).

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