Tonight during dinner I gently reminded Junior for the 50 millionth time to PLEASE stop talking with food in his mouth.
Without skipping a beat he opened his mouth, pulled out the wad of food and put it into his hand. He was that eager to finish his story.
Rule may need some refining.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.