1:30 in the afternoon Church has necessitated the invention of the Perfectly Clean Eaters Club. Doug is the President, and I'm not even a member.
You see, we are all dressed in our best (summertime often had us in white) with our hair done, scriptures packed and shoes on before we're allowed to eat our lunch, a lunch which consistantly consists of cheese, lunchmeat, ritz, wheat thins and a clean fruit, usually an apple, but sometimes grapes (NEVER cherries or watermelon!) The President is allowed, however to eat whatever leftover he can find, He alone is allowed to eat Spaghetti (a serious danger for the non-member) and last Sunday, a hot dog with katsup and mustard (I think he was just showing off).
Our children don't think it is fair that he is allowed to eat whatever he wants and would like to join. I don't think Dalton will ever make it, at 11 he still gets icecream all over his mouth and some on his nose every time. Sophia is like me a little too passionate about her food. Jennie could go either way too young to tell. I think that Joe is a real candidate though. You see, it's in him.
We've noticed for awhile now that Dalton and Sophia are more like their Nelson side. Joe and Jennie take after their Crawford side. It's not a 100% thing of course, but time and time again they can be separated by their skin pigment, sense of humor, lip shape and now their cleanliness in eating.
The Crawford side has the crazy cleanliness in it, NOT the Nelsons (my mom has scores of blouses with a stain directly below her chin). We've heard stories of Doug's grandpa having his wife step outside to brush her hair, and Doug has had a difficult time combining most foods since birth (picture: deconstructed hamburgers, sandwiches and even Thanksgiving dinner).
It's more like the Psychotically Clean Eaters club if you ask me, but since half of my children and the man I love are in it (or at least trying to be in it), I need to embrace the madness.
I'll eat my hot-dog after church.
British Isles Day 2: Dublin
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