Sara: Dining room or front porch?
It seemed like a logical question. To me. We had done it. Successful completion of a real-adult-married-dinner. Salmon, corn, zucchini. A step up from our typical-savage-tipping-the-scale-of-gluttony nightly dinners, which are of late either egg sandwiches or veggie burgers.
Without a second thought, he replies: It's shark week.
And yes, reader, he is serious.
Sara: Dining room or front porch?
You see, I have a rule. If we actually make dinner- like real people- we eat at the table. No bones about it. If we eat our usual omnivorous delights, we dine in front of the TV. Sad, but true.
Since I made the effort today to cook like a real person, I had to stand my ground- even if it is Shark Week.
Frank: Dining room.
Clearly, he chose this position so that as we ate, he could at least listen to the Nonfiction TV waiting for him after our meal is complete. Smart tactics-he's learning all to well how to navigate the waters of our life...and the rules of dinnertime.
I'm sorry, but it is shark week... and as sharks would probably delight in the experience that is salmon - it would have been best to enjoy that delicacy in front of the TV during this particular week. I'm sorry sister, but you should have lost that argument...
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