This final morsel of a peanut butter and jelly almost started a war between myself and The Kid. He’s a bantam weight minus thirty pounds. The kid lives on cheeseburgers, PB&J and the cries of his little sister and it’s a chore every night to get him to ingest anything off his plate.
So he’s down to the last bite of sandwich and the octogenarian Italian woman in him said “finish the last bite” and he refused and I’m like “come on it’s one bite” and I’m not sure if it was spite or lack of appetite (after just eating the rest of the sandwich) but he just wouldn’t eat the damn piece and in my mind I’m yelling “EAT THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SANDWICH” but the health conscious, exerciser, prone-to-overeat person inside asked “why does he have to eat that?”
Am I trying to prove a point? Trying to get as many calories in him as possible? Waging a war where there’s technically no winner?
What’s my deal?