I have a friend who runs every day. She doesn't run because she loves to run, but she runs because she loves to eat. Running lets her eat whatever she wants. I guess I don't love eating enough to need to run, although I do enjoy a brisk walk with occasional sprints, I would just rather eat.
However, I evidently don't like to eat as much as my son either. He just had breakfast, a HUGE egg and cheese filled tortilla downed with a glass of milk. He put the dish away and then walked in to my room.
"Mom, what's for lunch?"
"You JUST had breakfast!"
"I need to eat! I'm a teeneager. A boy teenager!"
"Chicken wings."
Huge smile followed by, "When's lunch?"
My dad is butchering another beef for us at the end of the month. He said to make sure we have room in the freezer. No problem. The boy teenager has been eating here for several months now. And it looks like #2 is soon going to join the ranks of boy teenagers. Maybe I will stop sprint walking, and then I won't need to eat.
No comments:
Post a Comment