Sherbert tastes like sherpa

Kids got in my car today and started making up voices they think should go with different names... then came "Herbert"'s voice. Herbert loves Sherbert they just kept saying... til everything went silent and the carpool leaned over to me and said, "Miss Ali, I love sherbert too."
Well, he could tell by my face that MY name wasn't Herbert..
I tried to explain that my dad always asked if we wanted dessert growing up and we'd beg him to go to the store and get us something, and about once a week he would agree. Every week I had visions of candy bars and ice cream and cupcakes and anything that could relate to chocolate... Why I expected these things I'll never know because EVERY week he came home with a new carton of sherbert.
We did have our choice of rainbow or Pineapple. EW! Sure, I liked it probably the first 50 times, but you know you've had enough when there were cartons in the freezer crusted with ice and you could tell how long it had been in there by the thickness of the layer and the gumminess of the sherbert (oo I smell science expiriment). I no longer like sherbert.
This started me thinking of other things my dad did that ruined me for certain foods. Or things that every time I visit or hear of something I think of my dad.
there's my distaste for Dunkin Donuts. Thanks to my dad, every saturday almost he would ask us if he could bring home breakfast for us. Now we knew that meant doughnuts. We would wait to eat faithfully until 10am when we knew dad would walk in the door: 10 am on the dot. He would carry the box like it was the crown jewels... NEED DONUTS! Then we would open the box.
Thanks dad for getting 11 kreullers (no one in the family liked them) and 1 chocolate glazed one that my brother and I could wrestle over for the next hour until it was crumbs on the kitchen floor that we were licking to get. Nevermind that we had BEGGED dad for donuts and he asked what kind we wanted and we ALWAYS said chocolate, glazed, jelly, anything (but kruellers: don't actually say that, you might get all 12 kreullers).
Shall I now go on to Taco Bell... yes, my sister and brother are now laughing as they read those 2 words. And the church I go to is right next door to one, so I have a hesitant giggle everytime I go there. once in a while my dad would offer to bring home dinner (do you see a pattern yet). somehow it always ended up he was offering to bring home Taco Bell. And EVERY time we got excited.
"let me get a pen and paper and you write down what you want so I don't get it wrong this time" yes, he did this EVERY time and yet we still made the list.
Over an hour later he'd show up with a HUGE bag of Taco bell and throw it on the table with 50 packets of hotsauce (that no one wanted). Nevermind that taco bell was only a block away or that we only ordered like 10 things that would NEVER require a bag that big, we dove in and you're about to see why.
Inside would be 30 bean burritos and 1 taco. I probably LEARNED to love bean burritos because I was the youngest and no matter how much I slapped my brother, he got that one taco. No, I did not order 30 bean burritos and yes, I cried always for the next hour about how my dad screwed up again... Could he not read my writing, and what took an hour. I'll never know. ......... Bean Burrito.
There was the one time I was determined to get my order so I went with my dad. I think he had worked some "long hours" that day. we got to Taco bell and he went to order, but while waiting he heard a couple of guys arguing in the back of the parking lot... they got louder and more obnoxious, when my dad reached into his center console and pulled out his gun. he stepped out of the car and pointed it , asking nicely for them to resolve their problems because they were getting so loud he couldn't concentrate on what he was supposed to order... oh dad, I love you. At this point, he was so frustrated that after I made sure he ordered the correct food, he drove up to the window, handed them a 100$ bill and drove off before waiting for change or food. A block down the road when he had calmed down, I had to ask him to go back and get his change and my taco... oh dad, was this what happened every time?
I could LITERALLY go on and on and on about food related stories with my dad: tuna salad crackers, pickled pigs feet, oysters, meditteranean, thai, calamari, sushi.... must stop ... going to barf.
simply imagine how this might affect me relating to my children (surrounded by food). I really tie some memories here... good night.