Apparently, I don’t feed my child enough. You know, between breakfast, lunch, and graham crackers at church, I had some other things going on. This was unacceptable to Robert Manna. He came down from his nap raring to go, making rounds of the downstairs, checking to see that everything was just as he left it.
I was making the filling for a pie while he did this, and Rob came into the kitchen and stopped for a few minutes. He looked at me and shook his head. Then, the child went to the kitchen drawer (we actually only have one), opened it, got out his fork, closed the drawer, walked over to me (fork held high), and proclaimed, “Eat!”
Well. Of course. When you put it that way, how can I say no? After wrangling a “please” from the cherub’s lips, I found the only kid-friendly thing left in the house. Peanut butter. And Rob happily walked away, licking it off his fork.