It's no secret. My youngest, sweet boy is an eater. A big eater. There's no skipping meals, or snacks for that matter, when it comes to Jack. He will not allow it. Sam is so laid back about eating. He eats when he's ready and not one minute sooner. Ironically, my oldest is off the growth charts and now wearing a size 5T and his little brother, the boy with the bottomless stomach, is simply average on the growth charts (which really worries and puzzles his Daddy). Sam likes to be up a while, watch a little Noggin and play with his bears before even thinking about breakfast. Not Jack. He gives me about, hum, five minutes to have something sitting at his place at the table. And if I don't, he runs over to the oven, slaps the door, runs to his seat, slaps the table and yells, "Eat!" His impatience is cute now, but will likely not be so adorable when he's sixteen. I always start him with one pack of oatmeal, but soon he is chirping, "Eat, Eat" and I am running to fix that second pack before he starts gnawing on the table. My little Jack. The cutie who sticks his face in the bowl to lick every last drop. And I appreciate it. No pre-rinsing the dishes when Jack's around.
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