Me: “Why do you always peel grapes, every single time, before you eat them?”
Little Miss Thing, age 4: “It makes them look like eyeballs. I like eating eyeballs.”
Me: “Why do you always peel grapes, every single time, before you eat them?”
Little Miss Thing, age 4: “It makes them look like eyeballs. I like eating eyeballs.”
My Wonderful Wife: “It’s time to give the puppies their W-E-T-F-O-O-D.”
Me: “Did you just spell words so puppies wouldn’t understand?”
WW: (stare) “Don’t judge me.”
We let the boy make his own dinner tonight. We felt, at age 7, he should start earning his keep and preparing his own food.
Moment later, he produced a sandwich comprised of peanut butter, peanuts, shredded cheddar cheese, and bright pink strawberry Quik dust.
Before we could even close our open-hanging jaws, he washed it all down with strawberry milk and thoroughly loved every bite. He really, really, sincerely loved it.
I truly don’t know what to say. To each his own, I guess.