Vivi is a great eater. She's so great that I wish there were such a thing as a toddler eating contest. C'mon, she'd win every trophy! And yesterday's post should clue you in to the fact that she ain't winning a running trophy any time soon. Yeah yeah, I know, childhood obesity and all that. What-EVER. That's sooooo 2005. Lame.
Think I'm exaggerating? Yesterday for lunch I made her first ever adult-sized lunch meat sandwich. I'm not a huge fan of lunch meat (listeria, E. coli, and other public health-y reasons), but I bought it because it's a quick protein, and she seems to be really hungry at lunch. Anywho, the sandwich had 2 pieces of turkey, 4 pieces of salami, cheese, lettuce, and mayo (gag), and my plan was to serve her half of it and save the other half for today. She not only ate the entire sandwich, crusts and all, but she finished it before me and proceeded to ask me if she could have some of mine. During the meal, she periodically would say "Mommy, what IS this called? This is a GOOD lunch!"
Still not convinced? She doesn't like, but LOVES, adores, can't wait to eat Nate's green olives stuffed with...get this...anchovies. You can't even get a green olive near me, let alone after stuffing it with a disgusting fish. And don't even get me started on the jalepeno marinated sardines. This brings me to my favorite story to tell about Nate.
On our second date, Nate counted the appetizer and then apportioned out how many each of us could eat. I'd like to play the role of Captain Obvious and point out that no single lady on a second date would consider scarfing down more than her share of the appetizer (except perhaps my daughter), not to mention the fact that we were at something like a Macaroni Grill, so I had more than my share of pasta on its way to me. Ha! I always follow this story by saying he is lucky we had such a first date, or I might not be writing this post today. Like father, like daughter.
So all of this occurred to me this morning, as I was standing hunched in a corner of the kitchen quickly consuming my breakfast. I actually found myself trying not to make a sound in the hopes that Vivi wouldn't come running into the kitchen to request her own bowl of my expensive adult cereal, despite the fact that she had just eaten her own breakfast. And I had to laugh at my own ridiculousness! But there's one thing I've learned. In my family, it's survival of the hungriest.