I am standing in my kitchen, telling myself it is time to exercise. It is time for all of us to exercise. (Not you--everyone in my kitchen.) I need to go for a run with the dog and the 4-year-old needs to run outside.
We should have gone earlier but my son requested pancakes and I made them. Far too many of them. I am hungry and if I do not go run soon, I will eat them. But instead, I am standing at my computer, reading this true, real, fascinating article. Before I can finish the article, I see the grin on my 4-year-old's face. The grin with an index finger in the middle of it. The grinning child with the finger in his mouth is standing in the kitchen, trying to block my view of the tub of margarine with a 4-year-old-finger-sized canal running through it.
He's sneaky but he's honest. "I ate butter. I like to eat butter."
Sigh. It's time for a run.