So I'm renaming my kids. I mean, not legally. Just here.
The thing is, you're not really supposed to give your kids' real names on a blog. They need, like, a secret identity. (It lets them deny they know you if it ever comes up in middle school.)
In the interests of simplifying today's post, we'll just call them A (son) and C (daughter).
So yesterday morning, A and C are at the table eating breakfast. C says she could eat more cereal than she has, and I explain serving sizes for the 800th time this week. She says, "Hmmph," and I joke that if she loved broccoli, I'd give her as much as she wanted.
She sees I'm being ridiculous, so she turns to her brother for support.
C (in her smarty-pants voice): If you eat too much broccoli, you'll turn into a vegetarian. Right, A?
A (not wanting to get involved): I think so.
C (seriously now): Are vegetarians even real? I mean like really real? Not on TV.
A (in his guru voice): Of course! . . . Some dinosaurs were vegetarians.
So if any of our vegetarian friends want to come for dinner soon, that would be great. My kids are surrounded by carnivores.
Now, since it's Saturday night and you'll maybe get a sermon at church tomorrow, and since I'm still cooling my jets after seeing A & C's idea of cleaning a room tonight. . .
that's the end. Let's just pretend there's a really deep, hidden meaning to this post, ok?
I'll be back Monday with your regularly scheduled point. And in the meantime,
I hope you rest like a kitten on the Sabbath.
I hope it's this fun:
I hope you feel loved,
and I hope you don't turn into a vegetarian. (Just kidding! Love you guys.)
See you Monday,