The Pasta Lover

He may look like a Russian midget with his stout mini body and his blond locks, but V cannot LIVE without pasta. He asks for it ("pasta?" he inquires every morning "carne"? "apple sauce?") at every meal and I think he has it for most meals at home. I made potatoes and broccoli and a slew of other foods for dinner tonight. But V cried. Desperately. For ten minutes. For his true love. "Pasta!" he wailed. I did not give in. But he barely ate. Pobre gordo.