Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Yesterday, as I was reading a book on Penguins to Adam and Isaac, I think I may have discovered the answer to one of life's most perplexing questions. Why do they eat my food?
I don't like to think of myself as a selfish person, It' not as if 99.7777777% of our grocery budget isn't spent on kid friendly food; I promise all the Macaroni & Cheese, peanut butter and cold cereal in the shopping cart aren't for me. I also promise my offspring do not like adult friendly food; because, with the exception of my chicken cordon blue recipe (which is disqualified due to the time, effort and frustration it takes to prepare), and steak(also disqualified due to expense and the amount of A1 they drown it in), they will not eat any of the adult meals we occasionally treat ourselves to. However, any item on Moms' plate, or in a very expensive tiny little bag tucked away 'just for Mom', or on a fork headed to my mouth, is a delectable morsel that simply must be devoured by all seven sons, each time I eat it and, preferrably before I get a bite.
The penguin book may have answered the whole dilemma...My children are baby penguins and I their Mommy Penguin have stuffed my belly with squid and fish for the past months, then have waddled, slid and clawed my way to the middle of a polar icecap with the sole purpose of feeding my chicks from the partially digested contents of my own stomach. My grade school librarian was right, you really can learn anything from a book.