Family Dinner

Everybody from the American Academy of Good Things for the Family to your great-Aunt Gertrude agrees that family dinner is important.

Bah humbug.

For some reason, I bought into the hype and decided that we should include Isaac at the table at dinnertime.

Yeah, I know.

I know.

So, dinner goes like this:  Jason at the table.  Big boys at the table.  Isaac in his chair. Me in a chair with wheels and armed with a little spoon and pouch of baby food.

Now for the good part.

Isaac loves watching his brothers.  Brothers love to make Isaac smile and laugh.

When Isaac smiles and laughs, food drops/drips/slides out of his mouth.  Brothers find this hysterical.

The more food falls out of his mouth, the harder they laugh.  The harder they laugh, the harder he laughs.

And repeat.

Soupy pea/pear/carrot mix all over the place.  The floor.  The table.  The chair.  My shirt.  My pants.  Isaac's hair.  Isaac's diaper.

And shockingly little in his itty bitty belly.

And, for the older brothers, it is dinner and a show.