Sometimes even moms get sick, which leaves dad in charge. (I know, I know. This can’t be good.) I was on the couch miserable with a sinus infection on this particular evening. Max (Bethany in a wild mood) was wound up and excited that Daddy had brought home a kids meal for dinner.
Carefully, Daddy laid out the feast of cheeseburger and fries on the coffee table in front of the tv. (Daddy in charge, Daddy’s rules.) He sat down next to her and dug in. Beth took one bite of her burger and jumped up and started dancing to a commercial. “Sit down and eat your burger, Beth,” said Daddy. “No, I dancing!” said the boogie diva cheerily. “Eat your burger, Beth!”
She sat down and took another bite, only to bounce right back up again. “Eat your burger, Beth!” said Daddy a bit firmer this time. “No, I singing!” she says breaking into her rendition of Blah Blah Back Seep.
I had to giggle. Good luck Daddy, I thought.
She finished her song and sat back down. One more bite. Pickle. Daddy forgot. No pickles. She popped up and made a bee-line for the kitchen. “Sit down and eat your burger!” Daddy insisted. “No, pickle too yucky. I put in trash cam.”
Back to the coffee table. “Now, eat your burger Beth.” She sat and peeled the burger apart to check for hidden pickles. No. One more bite. Up again.
“Bethany!” snapped Daddy. She turned on her heel and stopped. Daddy leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes and said slowly in quiet exhaustion: “Beth, eat your damn burger.”
Beth looked at him and smiled, apparently feeling sorry for him. “No, Daddy,” she said gently. “It’s not a damnburger. It’s a hamburger!”
Daddy laughed, completely defeated.