Really, I was over at The Persnickety Eater plotting a piece on tonight's dinner, but the Dashboard was experiencing technical difficulties. Not to be thwarted, my inner "A-ha!" reminded me of my "other" blog over here - the one not-really-intended-for-food - sitting ready for other rambling literary, erm, stuff.
Of course, Life tried to persuade me to do other things instead. "Go outside and check on your eldest son, who should be back from returning his friend's football up the street. Take your younger son along so he won't have a conniption when you walk out the door. Spend a few minutes trying to photograph them until the elder shows you a long, bloody scratch on the younger's shoulder. Clean up the little one and send him into a conniption afterall when, even with help from Daddy, you get the Band-Aid stuck in his hair. Finish getting dinner ready then feed your bowl to the youngest because you're thrilled that he's eating the veggies without complaint. Fix yourself another bowl and try to enjoy it even though it's half cold by the time you sit down to eat. Retrieve the Band-Aid, which is only barely hanging on after just ten minutes of wear."
Bound AND determined [what else?], I finally made it back here to the keyboard as the boys (including the biggest one, a.k.a. Hubby) ate their dinners in a relative state of calm. Yes, there were a few odd noises and mini guffaws, but overall an acceptable mealtime.
Now the littler one has a dark chocolate goatee and the bigger one is totally grossed out. Better intervene before there's another mess to clean up and more time is spent NOT writing!
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