Like many small children, I did not like a selection of food when I was little and especially hated carrots, green peppers and white pork meat. In the childcare, our dining room was arranged with an aisle in the middle flanked by rows of rectangle-shaped small tables as each was seated for four children with one end against the wall and the other by the aisle. My seat was by the wall, and that provided a convenient spot to dump food that I did not eat. Most of our dishes had a little amount of either shredded or sliced pork meat mixed with vegetables. I remember at one meal we had white rice and green peppers with sliced pork. Sitting at my table, I frowned into my bowl and figured what to do with the piled-up stuff of the green and slices of the white. I picked out the red meat and gulped it down with plain rice at the speed of lightening (I thought so). Then I lowered the bowl and, with a quick and awkward jerk of hand, the leftover slipped out to the floor between my chair and the foot of the wall. Claiming the completion of my meal, I dashed out the room and nervously wandered outside. I was not called in somehow. Thought it is irrelevant now, I am still wondering why.
