Skip the Bowl, Just Bring Me a Spoon

I walked into the kitchen to find something for breakfast.  The closer I approached the fridge, the quicker caution and reason was thrown to the wind.  So, what was for breakfast?  Perhaps a fresh, creamy non-fat blueberry yogurt?  A few pancakes with a drizzle of maple syrup and a small teasing of Country Crock spread?  Maybe some warm toast smothered with blackberry jam and a glass of cold, fresh orange juice?

No.

Heapings of leftover homemade trifle still in the bowl, with a big spoon.

I can’t be accused of being a bad example either.  We offered Ian a bowlful a few hours after dinner last night.  His eyes were huge and I could hear him getting fatter as we ran through a few of the key ingredients: custard, jell-o and fresh cream.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered, after taking a bite.

He’s no son of mine!

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