Kids…

Last night I made dinner for the family. Mind you, I’m not some kind of a wizard chef or anything like that at all. Most of the things I make come from boxes, jars, and cans. One of the crumbsnatchers decided she didn’t want to eat Macaroni and Cheese and hot dogs. I whipped up a bowl of honeycomb and milk and she was good to go.

As dinner progresses everyone else finishes up except for me. CS#2 says to me, “Daddy, how come you eat so much?”

I give her a look that probably said, “And what the hell does that mean?”

She quickly backtracks and says, “I mean, you’re just always the last one to finish eating.”

The thoughts that run through my head at this point are something like this:

“Am I getting fat? Can the kids tell I’ve put on a bunch of weight since I got married? Do they think I’m fat? Do I really eat a lot or is it just that I eat slower than everyone else?”

In honesty, I think its a combination of both. I don’t remember eating this much ever and I haven’t quite mastered the whole talk while you eat thing while managing to still eat. I can either talk or eat.