Page 15 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf
"Yes?" I acknowledge him.
"Is pizza healthy?" he asks, deadly serious.
"Pizza typically contains excessive sodium, refined carbohydrates, and saturated fats," I reply. "It lacks nutritional density and contributes to childhood obesity rates."
His eager gaze turns into a frown. I didn't even answer in medical terminology. What more do they want?
Maeve clears her throat. "What Dr. Reizenhart means is that pizza is an occasional treat, not something we eat every day."
The boy nods, seemingly satisfied with this translation, inaccurate as it is.
I continue through my presentation, occasionally catching Maeve's eye as she silently encourages me to simplify further. It's irritating. It’s also helpful in its own way.
As time passes, the children remain attentive, if not enthusiastic. Until the pixie girl from earlier raises her trembling hand.
"What happens if I don't eat vegetables AT ALL?" Her wings flutter rapidly in a sign of anxiety. “Like, ever?”
I consider my response carefully. Medical accuracy is paramount, but I'm aware now of my audience's limitations. Still, children deserve honest answers to their questions.
"Without proper nutrition, including vegetables, your body won't develop correctly," I explain. "Poor dietary choices lead to numerous health conditions including cardiovascular disease, metabolic disorders, and statistically shorter lifespans. Studies show that consistent nutritional deficiencies can result in premature death."
“You mean if I don’t eat veggies, I’m going to die?” the girl asks, her eyes as wide as saucers.
From the corner of my eye, I see Ms. Grimsby get up from her seat, alarm on her face.
“Well, it’s an oversimplification of what happens when a person suffers from deficiencies in their diets.” I keep my tone even, proud of the way I adapted my discourse to the children. “But, in essence, yes.”
The classroom erupts into chaos.
A human girl in the front row bursts into tears. "I'm going to die because I don't like broccoli!"
“Well,” I correct. “Not right away. But yes, in the end, this type of diet could lead to you dying younger than you normally would.”
“Does my mom want me to die, too?” A young troll girl stares in horror at her lunch box, which contains what appears to be a peanut butter sandwich and crackers.
"We're all gonna die!" wails a gnome child, his pointy hat quivering along with his chin.
The human boy who asked about pizza stands up on his chair, reaches into his lunch bag, and hurls a carrot directly at me. It hits me square in the chest before falling to the floor.
I freeze, genuinely confused by this reaction. I stated medical facts. Nothing I said was incorrect or exaggerated.
Maeve springs to her feet, her red curls escaping their bun as she moves swiftly to the front of the classroom.
"Everyone take a deep breath," she commands, her voice firm but gentle. The children respond instantaneously, their sobs quieting as they follow her instruction. "That's it. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
She crouches down to eye level with the crying girl.
"Emma, sweetheart, you're not going to die from not liking broccoli. There are lots of other vegetables you might enjoy. Remember how you tried those carrot sticks with ranch dip last week?"
The girl hiccups and nods.
"Tommy," she calls to a boy hiding under his desk. "You can come out now. Nobody's dying today."
She scans the room from her standing position, reassuring each child individually. To the troll girl, she says, "Your mom packed you a perfectly good lunch. Dr. Reizenhart just means we should try to eat healthy foods most of the time."
By the time Maeve and Ms. Grimsby made a complete circuit, the classroom has returned to relative calm. Even the pixie who asked the original question is quiet, though her wings still flutter nervously.
"Ms. Grimsby,” Maeve calls to the teacher. “Perhaps we could take a short break? Maybe the children could work on their nutrition collages while Dr. Reizenhart and I have a quick chat?"