Last night as we were hauling our tired, boated bodies into bed, The Daddy and I agreed to both try and cut down on the amount of junk we eat. We have been in vacation mode for too long as regards food, throwing back beer and dessert and pizza and cookies with blatant disregard for our health or for whether our shorts would even fit the following day.

T-Bot was either listening at the door or he is psychic. I am going with psychic. This morning he announced that he was going to prepare me a “Yummy, Yummy Breakfast” and that I was to sit at the dining room table and wait. After being called back briefly to peel my own carrot and chop my own apple I was presented with my meal. 

“Oh!” I said weakly, “That looks yummy and very … healthy!” 

“Yes,” he said, with a satisfied grin, “It is yummy! I’m going to sit here and watch you eat it!”