[As far as I know, I'm still scheduled to be on CNN today at 10:30am EST.]
My son eats all day long.
At first, I thought it was just because he was bored. As good as Quinlan is at occupying herself, with books, blocks, heck, even a puny little scrap of paper or a pine cone, he cannot do anything except draw a tiger face on himself with a marker or cover the bathroom floor in baby soap.
And that usually only takes him about two minutes and he's begging for food.
"I need a snack," he yells, sometimes even after just finishing a meal.
It doesn't matter if he finishes his breakfast, or drinks more water, or does whatever everyone has tried to tell me to do.
He's still hungry.
I admit that it was becoming the bane of my existence, the constant fetching of snacks and packing of food for even just short trips to pick up Quinlan from school.
His devouring of two 6-packs of yogurt in four days has completely thrown off my grocery shopping, and I find myself having to go back more than once a week, which is a pain anyway, but with three kids, is like torture.
Even worse, in my attempt to start buying in bulk, I was feeling proud of the fact that I had bought the 12 packs of yogurt.
Don't even talk to me about the amount of "squeezy" applesauces and fresh fruit this child can eat.
But then last week we were invited over for dinner to a neighbor's house - a neighbor who just so happens to have three boys.
And when I saw them devour foot long subs, organic potato chips, and two pieces of apple spice cake, and then beg their mom for more food, something clicked.
I had found my son's people.
The man people.
Or testosterone charged little boys who burn more calories in five minutes then I probably did running that damn half marathon last weekend.
Don't get me wrong. Like my BFF's husband once said, "Kristen can eat me under the table any day."
But really, I can put the food away.
On second thought, now I know why my mom used to lock the fridge.
Or why people worship at the church of Costco.