Like lots of other kids, Sweet Pea is very hungry when he wakes up in the morning. I mean like keep-your-hands-and-feet-away-from-his-mouth hungry. Like unhinge-his-jaw-and-pour-the-food-in hungry. Combine normal adolescent growing hunger with coming off stimulant medication and you have something close to a shark attack. Except instead of tasty New England beach goers, he wants carbs.
Imagine this coming at you in the kitchen demanding waffles.
So you can imagine my surprise Wednesday when Sweet Pea went on a hunger strike. He asked his father for waffles and was denied. He asked his mother for waffles and was denied (again). He had cereal, toast, eggs, oatmeal and loads of fruit to choose from, but he decided that if he couldn’t have waffles, he wouldn’t have anything. His Mamaw thought this was hysterically funny and wrote him the following poem:
There was a young mom from New Jersey
Who treated her child without mercy
Why was she awful?
She wouldn’t make waffles.
Maybe tomorrow, it’s Thursday!
Sweet Pea could easily eat 30 huge Belgian Waffles for breakfast. And then ask for more. I'm pretty sure that if we didn't stop him, he would eat them until he suffocated.
And that is why I have the best in-laws in the history of ever. My favorite part is where she called me young.
