Howdy,
Okay, so, in my Scrivener folder entitled “Post drafts/ideas” (yes, I have a few ideas before I snap on that spandex wrestling suit and wrestle words to the mat with vicious and sweaty competitiveness) I have a draft reactively titled, “#?: Rings in the clown’s mouth”.
The start of a rough draft, “#?: Rings in the clown’s mouth” doesn’t have a lot to it yet, only a sentence, 36 words, but it holds a scratched out idea: “Feeding the boys (while they’re young: we’ll see about as teenagers) can feel, repeatedly, like trying to toss a brass ring into the clown’s mouth on the famous Looff Carousel on the Santa Cruz Board Walk.”
Obviously, I haven’t made — ahem, crafted — that flashed thought into a larger narrative for a blog post yet — though by working on this now I did just add the detail about it being the “Looff” Carousel and “brass” rings, so it was really 34 words and counting — but I do plan to someday (and if you’ve been along the whole way from now to then, just think of the payoff you’ll have, being on the in — I try to give the treats I can, a little something, something for putting up with “spandex” and “sweaty”).
Would you believe that’s all an intro? Part of the plan, original intention, with the idea I have, but I admit it grew …
Okay, so, the eating idea that I mentioned, unfortunately, I still fully believe it will be apropos in the near future — feeding bouncing of off grinning cheeks. Tiny humans that need to eat.
But today is different. Different because I’m writing about yesterday, last night, when 40% of my pizza was inhaled by only two of our three boys.
Seriously.
When he’s on, Ti can put it down, but do you know Jasper?
Well, yesterday I brought home a large pizza for dinner. (Ten slices worth: I had to perform a mental count after in my confused and astounded disorienting shock of the situation of consumption.)
I set the hot Pizza Factory box, the Monday Special, on the table and touched base with Sarah who had been home. Meanwhile in another part of the house (who are we kidding? It’s all kind of the same part of the condo), Jasper sat down, reached in, and pulled out a wedge with sliced ham and started eating, ahead of schedule for the family dinner. I don’t know if that first piece ever hit the plate.
Yes, I said first piece. Jasper ate two large-sized pizza slices. It’s usually a long fixation on one with an intense dose of secret-operative-level negotiation to get through the crust. (Other days, the crust is gone first and the toppings apparently represent explosive landmines to be tiptoed.)
And once Titus could get to the table and get started like the rest of us sudden laggers he made quick work of catching up and enjoyed a second piece himself.
I also worked through my two pieces and unhinged the pizza box. Only two pieces left. Sarah said I should take the larger one and she’d take the smaller piece, because I’d only had two, right?
Right.
Sarah and I each snagged our third (hers were dainty, and her three are not the point of this story — very dainty slivers, as you’d imagine for her) and the pizza was gone. History. ¡Adiós! Dust. Sayōnara. Scattered pools oil, receding as slimy cardboard.
No leftovers. A sad moment.
But then, wait … our boys ate 40% of the pizza!!
My pizza.
Four diners, divers, in the pizza box and Jasper and Ti held their own; not to mention that Riah reached from his high chair and snatched a big piece of ham off Ti’s first slice and got it his mouth in an infant-flash. Had to fish that out of his mouth and chop it up a bit before the youngest pizza hog gobbled it down.
I played a little if game and said to Sarah, If they had wanted any more, we would have cut a piece in half for them and then the last piece in half for us … AND THEY WOULD HAVE EATEN HALF THE PIZZA!
Two-and-a-half pieces for Titus Shalom, and 2.5 for big brother Jasper William; and 2-1/2 for Mama, and only two-and-a-SCRAP for Papa!
Mamma Mia! Pizzeria!
But it gets worse, I imagine. I can see it now, Future Sarah & Billy are going to be lucky to even get to smell a pepperoni. Lucky.
Okay, so, we may have even gotten to the food before dinner prayer last night, but it being gone has me praying.
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Word Count: 111,275 / On Pace: 108,900 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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