Put in my place

August 9, 2007 by Barbara.

When I asked Ken last night what he thought of when I said, “supper” he told me, “Chinese food.” The answer worked for me, too. It’s been so long since we last ordered in, the delivery guy asked me what we’d been doing. This says two things about us:
1. We order in too much; and
2. We’ve been doing much better than we were previously.

I had to show Reid how to “hug” the bag to carry it to the table. She staggered a bit as she walked but was uber-proud of herself for accomplishing it. Often when Reid carries the pizza boxes in, they end up less than perfectly parallel to the floor or upside down (driving Ken a little bit nutty) but there were no incidents of that type.

At the table, I offered Reid a container of veggies and she declined. Once Ken had taken some, he offered them to Reid and she accepted. In case I’d missed it, Reid explained to me, “I didn’t want some after you. I only wanted some after Daddy.” Got it. I’m unworthy of eating after. ;+)

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