Why we eat out

Okay, so we've been cooking up a storm at our house. And we have a bunch of left overs. So I decided to make them for lunch today.

I reheated some taco for Xander and put it on a plate. 

Then I reheated a bratwurst and put it on my plate. 

Then all hell broke loose.

"My sausage!" he screamed. So I offered to switch. 

"No! My taco!" 

Back and forth. Until he threw a tantrum and cried and lied down on the couch crying and moaning. Only to sit up and say, "Scared of the dark." 

Yeah, um, it's 11:15 a.m. and there's a strong southern exposure lighting up the living room.

Then he noticed -- I had eaten the taco.

"Mommy, go away! Go away! My plate! My taco!"

So, um, I did what any mother does. I started laughing uncontrollably. 

I laughed so hard that I had to usher myself upstairs and left MacTroll knee deep in a temper tantrum while he was trying to use the leftover grilled chicken in his new George Foreman grill/griddle/wafflemaker/panini machine that he purchased at Wal-mart yesterday. Why a George Foreman you ask? Because he found out that in all stores in Savoy -- charcoal is a seasonal item that isn't around in January. Cause he's the only insane person willing to stand out in 15 degree weather to grill. 

Ahhh -- the tirade has ended with MacTroll putting Toy Story up on the big screen. With any luck, the little crazed lunatic will pass out on the couch.