All of our morning and evening meals are ate as a family at the kitchen table. It has long been this way except for the current disappearances of Connor, who may or may not be interested in the food prepared for the occasion. Interest would depend on sugar, bread, and cheese content.
Sunday morning, not feeling like cooking, I went to the local doughnut shop. I came back home laden with a dozen glazed, a dozen assorted, and a dozen doughnut holes. Just enough to help each of us slip into diabetic comas. I have two of his favorite food groups covered and could have had the third with a cheese danish but alas there were none to be had.
We sit around the table and talk about the week before, school, work, friends, etc. when a discussion about ancient times one of us had seen on the history channel causes us to go off in a tangent induced by sugar. Giggling and laughing, we try to imagine school in ancient times and the problems of using caves with huge stones that had to be rolled aside to open and close, in lieu of modern day lockers. This prompts the oldest teen to exclaim, "Look someone put a man in mine!" which brings about more laughing.
The younger teen informs us that we are all most likely going hell as a burst of gas erupts from her and lifts her an inch from her seat. Laughter stops as her face turns a blotchy red from embarrassment and squeaks "Excuse me." We try not to embarrass her further but are forced into laughing again as her little brother looks at her and asks "Bubbles?"