Munch has been under the weather a bit these last couple of days so Hubs and I decided to lift her spirits by taking her to a local pizzeria. Gi loooves pizza...about the only non fruit food besides candy and chips that we don't have to beg or bribe her to eat. The waiter brings over the obligatory garlic and plain rolls and some pats of butter on the side. Miss Grump-a-lump complains that she doesn't have her own fork so we assure her that the nice waiter will be bringing it soon. Hubs puts a plain roll on her little plate along with pats of butter and encourages her to eat the roll first while she is waiting for her fork.
"No! Me want fork. Me need fork first, Daddy!" is the response that we get.
"O.k., no problem, you can wait for your fork but you know you don't need a fork to eat your roll," we respond patiently.
The fork arrives and Gi holds it clumsily in her hand. Both Hubs and I roll our eyes thinking that our Grump-a-Lump is going to eat her roll on a fork. Then taken by complete surprise, we witness our 23 lb. peanut stab not at her roll but at a pat of butter on her plate. She swiftly puts it in her mouth and starts to chew. Both Hubs and I eye each other in amazement and stifle a belly laugh. Before we could recover from the first shock, Gi stuffs another pat of butter in her mouth and chews like a famished cow at a hay buffet. The piping hot pizza arrives at our table and our daughter wants nothing to do with it.
"Me done, Mommy," exclaims Gigi. Oh well, nothing like a few pats of butter to satify one's finicky appetite. Hubs and I reassure each other that our Munch at least ate something.
