Yesterday at noon, Son #2 desperately wanted to play.
Me: You need to eat some lunch.
Son #2: I'm not hungry. Can I go see if the W's can play?
(Lines repeated for a few minutes until I, per usual, caved in. Why force him to eat?)
Ten minutes later, Son #2 appears back home.
Son #2: Can I play Play Station?
Me: You really should eat some lunch.
Son #2: I just ate over at the W's.
Two seconds later, Mrs. W called: I just wanted to let you know that monkey came over for five minutes, ate lunch with us and then said, "I'm going home now."
Are processed bologna Lunchables at the neighbor's house really that enticing? Bizarre.
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