All of us were at Mom's house for dinner today. All = 20.
Dinner is a loud, somewhat rowdy affair. I wish you could see it...it's incredibly entertaining.
According to my Dad I have a bad habit of leaving food on my plate.
Today he got the attention of all of the little people and said, "Look at this. Noelle didn't finish her dinner. Can you all tell her to take two more bites?" And believe me, they told me.
The rule is if you don't finish dinner you don't get dessert. I said to the little people "But I don't even want dessert."
I had to finish anyway...even though I thought the salad dressing was disgusting.
Later we were discussing the possibility of a storm.
I mentioned that I would like it to storm.
Someone said, "Why do you want it to storm?"
I replied, "I would love for my head to go back to normal." (I've been dizzy for three days.)
Dad looked at me and said, "Noelle, I'm afraid it will take plastic surgery to make that happen."
And THAT'S what I get for telling my dad I love him. I want to play a new game.