Chris fussed at me yesterday morning, before he left for staff meeting. He asked me to stop folding laundry at the table. “Sit down and eat some breakfast. You know you’re gonna feel sick later if you don’t.” I just smiled and continued to fold. He doesn’t know what I know. He spends more solo-parent mornings with them than I do, but they’re different with him. Eventually, I moved on from laundry to a second breakfast for the girls and said goodbye to Chris.
I realized he was right about feeling sick, though, so I made my own breakfast after cleaning up the three little ones from theirs. I set them in front of PBS and sneaked back to the kitchen. It took only a few moments and a clank of my fork for them to learn what I was doing. Busted.
|look at IJ’s mullet!|
They flock like zombies. Or pitiful puppies who haven’t eaten in days. Or just… Kincaid babies. I seem to be raising the smallest, hungriest toddlers in town. I posted the above photo on Instagram and got some hilarious responses from you guys:
I’m not alone. Moms, we’re in this together! We will take back the kitchen table one day! Until then, it’s time to suck it up. Avoid eye contact, turn your head, and cram it in your mouth. Over the sink.