The Butterfly has just finished scarfing down her third helping of dinner and announces that she’s done.  As I’m picking up her plate and utensils, she asks “Can I have some dessert now?”

As I’m more anxious to get the current mess of dinner pots and plates cleaned instead of enlarged, I reply “In a little bit.  Let’s let your tummy have a rest.”

“My tummy needs to rest?”

“You ate three helpings, kid.  Yeah, your tummy needs to rest.”

“Okay,” she says, and heads over to the couch to watch Big Bang Theory reruns with the rest of the family.  I spend the bulk of the episode loading the dishwasher with plates and hand-washing the Queen B’s expensive pots, and finally hunker down on the couch, a bit worn out.

Immediately the little girl is face-to-face with me.  “Can I have my dessert now?”

“I said your tummy needs to rest.”

“It did,” she says.  “But now it woke up.”

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