We don’t usually do dessert in this house, but as a treat tonight Tracey made us all ice-cream cones with sprinkles. I enjoyed mine so much I had a second helping.
Tracey, as always the voice of calm reason, said, “You’ll get fat.”
I took another bite of my ice cream. A little name calling wasn’t going to stop me.
“He’s already fat,” chipped in a grinning Master6. He’s a cheeky bugger, but at least he knows he’s being cheeky. Unlike Miss4, whose 3 minute rant (would have been longer but I stopped her when I realized she had no intention of letting it go) was nothing but her honest observation of the man she most looks up to and admires. Me.
“Yeah, he’s fat,” she said, looking me up and down before agreeing with Master6. “You’re fat dad. You’re not just fat, you’re SUPERfat. You’re fatter than mum. You’re fatter than grandad. You’re fatter than Santa. Superfat you are. You’re really, really, really, really fat dad.”
This is merely a summary of her tirade – there was also the specific naming of my fattiest body parts & comment on the likelihood something is actually growing in my stomach. So thank you, little Miss Observant.
Not that I let it effect me at all. I only fed the rest of my cone to the dog because it had started to leave a bad taste in my mouth 😉