Apparently Emily was inflicted with the chipmunk gene. What is it exactly? It’s the innate ability to hold food in your cheeks until one of two things happen. Either your parents go absolutely bonkers and give in and tell you to just spit it out, or you sit there long enough that the sustenance finally completely dissolves through the pores in your cheeks. Which could take weeks. This is a gene that she must have donned from her Dad’s side of the family. She might ask her Uncle Chris how best to manage this tedious affliction. He had it growing up too. I am told he could hold beef in his cheeks so long that every inkling of pigment would be gone.
Last night the chipmunk gene reared its ugly head for the first time. Sadly, I’m willing to bet a gallon of organic milk it won’t be the last. I was trying my magic rhyming skills to get Emily to eat. I’m happy to report it still worked. Well, sort of. It managed to get the food INTO her mouth, but that’s as far as it got. I didn’t realize this at first, so we were on about our third bite when I realized her cheeks were filling up and she wasn’t chewing. Instead she was shoving. Shoving all the food into her ever-expanding cheeks.
So what was the outcome? Well, she’s not still sitting at the table gleaning nutrition via absorption. Which means the other of possible outcomes occurred. Greg and I surrendered to the Food Princess and let her spit it out so she could eat her cupcake.
Food Princess – 1
The Parents – 0