Not very long ago in a place that could be fairly close to where you are, a man sat in his house. He wasn’t doing much and he wasn’t thinking much or noticing much. He was just sitting very still and there were but two readily noticeable indications that he was even alive. His nostrils were flaring and the corner of his mouth glistened with barely contained salivation.
He wasn’t, as may be suspected, a simple man. Neither was he inebriated or on drugs. He was the victim of the aroma of roasting meat. He was so enamored of this hunk of roasting animal, this leg of fowl that crisped and crackled mere feet from where he sat, that he had forgone all other meals so that he may enjoy the day’s final partaking all the more. And so he sat, stuporous and waiting and drooling and dreaming of the moment his teeth would tear into the smoky flesh.
And finally that moment came and it was glorious.
Every bite made him hunger even more for the next and then the next and then the next. At first all his senses were engaged by the turkey leg he was ravenously consuming. He felt the bone burn his palm as he held the leg to his mouth and he felt the grease slick his chin. He smelled the smoke that flavored the meat and heard his teeth tear through the crisp skin that vainly attempted to protect the flesh beneath. And he saw…well, what he saw had nothing to do with the turkey leg. He saw a young boy. The boy’s lips were moving. It looked as if the boy were trying to tell him something.
As he continued to watch and eat, the boy’s face became contorted and it appeared as if he were speaking more forcefully. Suddenly, then, the man’s ears tuned out the sounds of his own chewing and began to receive the message the young boy was now yelling across the kitchen table.
“DADDY CAN I PLEASE HAVE A BITE!?” The man heard. And, being a kind father who preached at his children every meal time the virtues of trying new things, the man, although loathe to do so, handed the turkey leg to his son.
He watched in slightly amused horror as the boy devoured the turkey leg the way a Viking might devour a shank of mutton. The boy chomped and smacked and when the father realized that the few meager bites he had taken might be the only bites he would get, he tried to take his meal back and the boy snarled at him!!
A few more tense moments passed as the father wondered whether or not the boy might be turning feral when all of a sudden the boy dropped the turkey leg on a plate, burped loudly and ran from the table laughing like a lunatic.
The man rushed to the plate to find the ravaged remains of his meal, a barely recognizable chunk of slobbered on meat and he cried a hearty cry.
I bid you Adieu…and A don’t
Adieu…share food with your children despite the fact that they already said they didn’t want that and changed their little minds.
A don’t…try to take food from a hungry five year old. If they like it, then you’ve lost it.