I walked into the kitchen this morning, and the lady sparkler was rummaging through the refridgerator with three or four ziplock bags filled with food on the counter.

“oh, you’re packing a lunch?” I ask surprised, because I’ve never known her to do such a thing.

she stares back with pout-y face.

“no,” she says sheepishly.  “these are just my snacks.”

“your snacks?” I say, before I can engage my brain enough to tell my mouth to shut the heck up.  “all of that?!?”

“well, the bread is for toast for breakfast.  I’ll have the carrots as a snack around 10:30.  i’ll get a sandwich for lunch, and then the blueberries are for after … maybe around 2:30,” she says.

“I get hungry.”

so, I back my way out of the conversation by saying how great it is that she has a plan, and how cute her little array of baggies are … when she let’s it rip:

“oh, and shut up.  if it’s not this, then it’s sugar … and then there will be a whole lot more of me to love.”