Dinnertime

My children are just masquerading as children. I actually believe them to be feral wolf boys that have learned how to work the system. The amount of meat they can consume in one sitting is startling. I'm always walking the line between wanting to satisfy their hunger and clogging their arteries.

Tonight, I'm roasting a chicken (Barefoot Contessa's recipe). Little boy #2 is breathing down my neck for MEAT. Here's the conversation:

Boy #2: Can I PLEASE have a piece of meat!

Me: It's not ready yet.

Boy: (Counts to 20 as fast he can) It's ready!

Me: It doesn't work that way sweet potato.

Boy: Can I just PLEASE HAVE IT?

Me: Go back upstairs, I'll call you when it's ready.

Boy: Yeah, when I'm a skeleton.