Peanut Butter as American Virtue

Next month I leave for France. And now that I'm back with my parents for the next couple of weeks, my dad's working tirelessly to keep me from going. (He did this before I left for New York, too, up until the day I stepped onto the plane.)

To keep arguments from becoming repetitive, he offers a different reason every day. Today's rationale was lobbed early this morning, after passing me a cocktail of multivitamins.

Dad: "Take these now. It's probably the last time you'll have all your nutrients before coming back from France."

Me: "They have multivitamins in France."

Dad: "Those people can't do anything right. They couldn't even win the war." Thoughtful pause. "They don't have peanut butter in Europe."

Me: "Is that why they appealed to the Americans for aid?"

Dad: "Don't be a smart-ass."

Me: "Did you look everywhere in Europe?"

Dad: "They don't have peanut butter there. Can you believe that?"

Me: "I don't like peanut butter."

Dad: "What do you mean, you don't like peanut butter? You grew up on peanut butter."

Me: "That doesn't mean I have to like peanut butter."

Dad: "Peanut butter is the reason why you're smart."