Dinner Dam

When you have 27 children, you get used to  hoarding hiding Reese's & Cap'n Crunch in your dresser drawers, knowing exactly how many custard-filled Bismarks you can manage to completely eat before you get home from your solo trip to the grocery store, as well as how many Chicken McNuggets you can cram into your mouth just before you pull into the driveway, & making Rice Krispies while the kids are at school just so you can have a few of them before anyone else even knows about their existence. You get used to the fact that any amount of treats is never enough. A couple dozen of anything doesn't go as far in this home as it would in a home with a normal amount of 2.4 children.

While I'm used to not being completely honest about whether I bought Skittles or Muddy Buddy Chex Mix at the grocery store when the kids ask, I'm still getting used to having to  lie make up a new truth about food to someone that is not one of my 27 children: The Hubby Man.

I love food. As does hubby. The hubby also loves me, but sometimes he has the difficulty of having to decide between these 2 loves. He usually chooses wisely. Other times, though, his choice is the cause of him sleeping on the couch for a night or two, depending on how sparkly  the diamond his sorry is.

Hubby must decide between stealing tastes of my food (sleeping on the couch) & keeping me happy (letting me eat my own food in peace).

I hate it when people taste my food. I have no problem sharing, as long as the sharing is done on my own terms. Take a fry off my plate without asking & I'll shank your ass. Dip your finger in my coffee while you're handing it to me & I won't have sex with you for...eh, that's another post for another time.

This is why I must eat like a prison inmate...

I stabbed him with my fork.

There are times when, if I want to eat, I must wrap my arm around my plate to guard my food. I must never take my eyes off of my table mates, looking every which way while shoveling food in, because when I'm not watching there is a certain hubby (or sometimes a child) who thinks I won't notice when half of my food suddenly disappears from my plate while I blinked. 

So when I got smart & built a Hubby Dam while at a restaurant one night, this is what I had to deal with...

"Why must you
put this up?"

"Just one bite?"

Don't judge me. It was a gyro with these fries that are covered in some kind of Greek seasoning that makes me want to cry tears of deliciousness & he had his own set of the very same things right in front of him.

If he hadn't had his own set of the very same thing, I would have thought about giving him one of the crispy fries that I don't like. I'm not heartless.