We avoid feeding The Pixie. This keeps her in the 30th percentile on the growth charts.
We throw her a grape or cracker occasionally. No meat or fat. Maybe a cookie – if she becomes too waif like.
The Pirate loves his food, everything and anything. His mouth naturally aligns itself with the edge of the table and he shovels his meals in with ferocity.
Imagine our surprise one morning when The Pixie declared she was hungry.
We stared at her in shock, uncomprehending her needs.
Mr. Right looked at the slimy bits of porridge lingering in the pot. “There is no more food” he stuttered, feeling the precariousness of the situation.
How could we have anticipated this of all things?
After a moment more of blank stares The Pirate offered, “You can have the rest of mine” and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
So she finished off his breakfast.
Two minutes later The Pirate hollered, “Whoa! Where did my oatmeal go? Hey! The Pixie ATE it!!”
Mr. Right laughed, “Well you told her she could. Really you should know, if you’re going to tell something to someone, they will believe you.”
The Princess found this inaccurate. She dryly told us, “Not really. Not if you suddenly said, ‘I have a pet Tiger.’ Nobody would believe you then.”
We stared in shock once more.
Mr. Right had not considered all the outcomes had he?
I think she is right.