As far as I know, my Mother coined the phrase “Belly-Up to the Bar”. It’s basically a call for my children to come and eat! The Architect who invented this table built opposite the kitchen deserves an award. It’s such a convenient way to “slop” the hogs in between sit down family meals. The food goes straight from being prepared in the kitchen to their expectant mouths with a simple flick of the wrist.
I knew these days would come, and in reality It’s just barely starting. Be that as it may, it still doesn’t negate the fact that I’m having trouble keeping up with appetites. Four gallons of milk per week, a box of cereal demolished in a single sitting! Pounds of cheese, multiple loafs of bread, dozens of eggs… it numbs the mind. To this end, I’ve taken to shopping Sam’s Club again and buying everything in bulk. Simple things like ketchup and mayonnaise I’m bringing home now in vats instead of jars. I couldn’t find enough room in the cabinets to store all the food which prompted me to create the “Granary” which is a topic I’ll leave for another blog.
I feel like one of them “momma” birds with a nest full of chicks with their mouths constantly open screaming for food. Erick is only 12 years old and is in a size 10 shoe for men, I wear a size 9! WTF is up with that? I’ve always been under the impression that having big feet is an omen of tallness. I am not a tall guy, like 5’8″ at best, Wendy is pushing 5’2″ and I fail to understand how we bred gargantuan bottomless pits!