Mornings with Children

This morning my wife went to get her hair straightened, an epic process that took nothing short of three hours, and, in turn, left me to spend the better part of a Saturday morning with my children, alone.  My daughter has recently developed various attachments to a number of inanimate objects, the most recent of which is a dirty ol’ Piglet doll that’s roughly half the size of my fist*.  She carries it around in a death grip, white-knuckling the stuffing out of this poor pink totem.  She tries to bathe with it, nap with it and eat with it, a choice which makes me cringe.  As a bit of a germophobe, I can’t help but shudder when she takes that dirty Honey Bear loving hog and drops it in her fruit bowl.  This morning, while she poked pieces of sweet potato pie into her goblet, I tried to casually remove The Pig from her grasp, saying something like, “Here, let’s just move Piglet right over… here… and he’ll watch you eat from a far.”  She stared at me for a second before releasing a William Wallace style death cry, throwing her arm out towards Big P and wiggling her fingers.
I admit.  I bent.  I broke.  This morning, Piglet dines with the family.
…and for once, it’s not as a main dish.
My son has also – albeit not recently – developed an attachment to an object; not a specific object, mind you, just any old piece of nutrient based grubbery ie FOOD.  You put something in front of this kid and, if it lives up to his Ratatouille-esque standards he sucks it up like an industrial strength Hoover Vac.  He’s got this really incredible method of eating that sort of plays like a hotdog eating contest.  This morning he took bits of his turkey sausage patty and, with the graceful nuance of Takeru Kobayashi**, began dunking the chunks into his milk glass before slamming them into his mouth.  If the birdy giblets didn’t want to fit, no problem!  He’s actually developed a really precise skill wherein he takes the palm of his hand, places it ever so gently against the piece of protruding food and then shoves towards his face until every crumb of sustenance has slithered down his gullet.
I’m telling you, this kid is going to be a food eating champion some day.  This must be what it was like to watch Tyson cracking skulls on the playground.
Greatness in the making, folks.
*Please note, the writer has tiny fists.
**Hotdog eating Champion

One thought on “Mornings with Children

  1. Janey says:

    Reading about the kids shenanigans through your eyes makes a bad day better or an already great day stellar. Thank you.

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