Just had a lovely lunch with Darling Husband and the Toddler of Terror. We ordered three meals, and I’m pretty sure no one ate anything off their own plate.
I ate Darling Husband’s chips.
Darling Husband ate my hot turkey sandwich.
The toddler ate my corn.
I ate the toddler’s chicken.
And so on …
In the end, every bite was gone, and we’d all enjoyed ourselves very much. It was just a strange way to get there.