Ryan warned me about the appetites of boys. I assumed he was referring to the teen years, and maybe he was at the time, but it appears that we have entered that territory already.
On Mondays I go to the store and buy all of this:
AND two quarts of yogurt, a gallon of milk, a pound of roasted turkey lunchmeat, a thing of cheese, a box of cereal, two loaves of bread, a dozen eggs, two cans of black beans, and a couple of bags of frozen veggies that usually languish in the freezer until the end of the month when we are trying not to spend money and still have to eat (of course I get dinner stuff too, but I pretty much eat like a toddler at all other meals, so that's not really important right now).
And yet, after stockpiling our house with food as though preparing for a nuclear attack, I still find myself staring at the fruit basket Thursday morning (if I'm lucky) wondering what the heck happened to all the food.
THREE DAYS! And Monday doesn't even count because Charlie has lunch and snack at school that day. Wesley weighs nineteen pounds and I think we eat that much in produce in less than a week!
And when we do go to the store again, it's like they've been drifting at sea in a lifeboat sucking rainwater off a tarp for six weeks. I have found produce bags with HOLES in them where Charlie took a bite out of a peach THROUGH THE BAG. I have made impromptu sandwiches standing in front of the deli after picking up our meat order. And don't get me started on how many trips round the produce section we make on the days when they are offering free samples of pineapple.
It's staggering to think what they might be like as teenagers. I think we may need to move to a place where we can keep a cow and some chickens in the yard. And fruit trees. And twenty acres of corn.