March 2, 2010
Boy v. Food
A few weeks ago, my husband showed my boys an episode of Man v. Food. Over the course of an hour, the host ate a pizza the size of a side table.
Later that night, I caught Cortlen and Kellen in front of the mirror. They were measuring the width of their mouths with rulers.
"Do you think a 48-ounce steak would fit in here?" Cortlen asked his brother, opening his mouth as wide as he could.
"I could eat 77 doughnuts if Mom would let me," Kellen bragged.
Needless to say, every meal has the potential to turn into an eating contest.
"I'll have 17 bean burritos please," Cortlen told the cashier at Taco Bell yesterday.
"Minus sixteen," I corrected.
I was charged for 17 burritos.
By the time the accounting error was fixed, Cortlen and Kellen were gagging. They each had half of a burrito hanging from their lips.
"That is totally nasty," I told them. "Not to mention really bad manners."
Kellen tried to correct me. What he and his brother were doing was not rude or repulsive, but necessary in order to meet the basic requisites of manhood.
Three words into his manifesto, the burrito got the best of him. A large wad of partially chewed food tumbled out of his mouth...and landed on my taco.
"I think I'm going to cry," I announced to the occupants of my table.
My son snatched the burrito off my lunch and shoved it into his mouth. He had come too far to be disqualified by such misfortune.
"You're going to cry?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "Why?"