Documentation at the Tremayne's. Figured I oughta "write" it down. A journal entry, if you will. 'Cause sometimes it's pretty funny. Sometimes not so much, depending on my mood.
First things first. The prayer. I always ask "Who wants to say the prayer?" and I typically get silence. Cricket noises. Occasionally I get "I do I do!" in chorus, because of course one cannot outdo the other. Now Jace, when he says the prayer, it starts out so angelic: "Tank you bor the bood. Tank you bor my bamily", etcetera, until the final word, and then it's as if he's summoned the pit-lord from hell. "Ameeeeeen." In the lowest, growliest voice he can manage. I'd video, but should ya really video a prayer?
Moving on. John. He makes it difficult to continue a conversation. He's got 3 things to show us his "mom's-soooo-slow-to-feed-me" mood. 1., he screams intermittently if you don't keep his mouth occupied. 2., he slams his fist down on the tray, or 3., he growls and flexes his arms like he's changing to the Incredible Hulk.
Or just yells even when there's something in there.
Allow me to give you a taste of the boys' worst dinner list, number 1 definitely being chicken pot pie, and chicken chili, and stir fry.
Oh and just about everything else. Chicken a la king? Nasty white stuff. Meat loaf? Dookie on a platter. Actually, what they love probably makes a shorter list, such as spaghetti, pizza, or beef stroganoff. Ah well. At least we're having dinner together, right? What's a mom to do. . .