The soggy end of the stick

Yesterday I got some writing done in what's becoming the usual way: we strapped Vivian in her car seat and drove around; I laptopped and she dozed. We accidentally visited the gravel pits near Aberfoyle and I nearly finished chapter four of Plain Kate. James swears this is fun for him too.

On the way home we stopped in at Pioneer Barbeque for the pulled pork sandwiches they’ve been serving since 1927 – they’ve winterized their trailer since. Vivian laid claim to a pair of onion rings, more for their ringiness than for their value as food. She nibbled them sceptically. I leaned over to see how she was doing and she reached up to feed me, grinning. So I made a show of snarling and gobbling and snitched a bit of onion ring.

Ah! Hilarious! We do it again, and over the next five minutes give a floorshow called “feeding the Mom Dragon" for the whole restaurant. Vivian takes the last tiny piece, delicately popping it into her mouth.

James leans over and tries to play Dad Dragon with onion ring number two. Vivian extracts the bit of onion ring number one from her mouth and places it delicately in his. “I think I got the short end of that stick,” said James.

Then Mom Dragon next had lemon – even more hilarious, featuring scrunchy-face making -- and so the meal passed in festive peace.