We were ready for church early this morning (does not happen often) and so we went to McDonald’s for breakfast. Little did I know that I was going to be given insight into one of the burning questions in the universe: Why are some grown men nearly helpless? (And please, don't accuse me man-bashing. I know I could just as easily come across an example of why some grown women are nearly helpless. It is just that this was the revelation I was given, and I feel duty-bound to blog about it! -- Besides, it is a welcome break from the hurricane stuff.)
There was a mom and her three children who were having breakfast-- two girls and a boy in the middle, perhaps ten, eight and six years old. Big sister and baby sister needed no extra instructions on how to eat breakfast. Brother, however, was a different story. Here’s how it went.
MOM: Roll up your sleeves so you don’t get syrup all over.
BIG SISTER: Scoot up close so you don’t get food all over yourself.
MOM: Do you want me to cut this up for you? (As she is busy cutting his pancakes.)
BIG SISTER: Here, take some napkins.
MOM: Here’s what you do. You take the fork and you stab it and you eat it.
Finally, brother was ready to eat. We left before they did, so I don’t know how successful he was at keeping himself clean and devoid of syrup.