To say that my husband’s family loves to eat is a gross understatement. I’ve never seen a family that likes to eat as much as they do. In fact, we jokingly call our get togethers The Search for More Food.
As soon as breakfast is over, lunch plans are made. And the discussion at lunch? Often revolves around dinner. Then, no matter how ridiculously huge our supper was, the call goes out for dessert.
Portions are big.
Seconds are almost mandatory.
Diets? It’s best not to mention a diet.
Now, this isn’t a bad thing. It’s kinda fun. I like eating that way for a while, knowing that when the party breaks up, I can safely go without meals for a few days.
But there are limits. Just this past weekend, my in-laws were in town and we had dinner at this restaurant that was featuring a buffet. An all-you-can-eat buffet.
So, of course we all ordered that.
Folks, it was awful. Easily one of the worst meals I have ever eaten in my life. I picked at my plate, filling up on green beans (which were the only tasty item on the buffet).
But the rest of the family? Went back for seconds and even thirds, moaning about how horrible the food was the entire time. But still, it was there, and it was all-you-can-eat, so they were determined to get their money’s worth.
I was flabbergasted. And amused. And wondering how they could find the room (it was sitting like a rock in my stomach).
But you know what? I think it’s genetic. My daughter loooooves to eat. In fact, she likes her bottle so much, she screams when you burp her. Because, you know, you’ve got to take the bottle away first.
This is her, throwing a temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums mid-burp. But as soon as I put her back down and re-insert the bottle, the tears disappear without a trace, and the screams are replaced by coos.
So there’s no doubt that she’s her father’s daughter. I only hope that I can convince her that when the food’s bad, it’s perfectly alright to leave some on your plate (that way, there’s more room for ice cream).