We've become THOSE people

I remember my mom once telling me that when I was little, she occasionally gave me a chicken bone to chew on at dinner. Apparently, I was a handful when I was little and this was one way I stayed distracted so everyone else could eat in peace. Don’t tell Craig that, I like to blame him for Kate’s craziness and it’s been working so far. But seriously mom, a chicken bone? That is appalling. I know we were a little backwoods where I grew up, but I am pretty certain the stores CARRIED TEETHING BISCUITS. I can picture my parents having people over for dinner, with me in a highchair, gnawing on some leftover bones. That lends itself to assuming that a different person had already eaten the meat off the bone. Yum. Do you want to throw these away? Nah, just throw ‘em to the kid. I can’t believe they didn’t take a picture of this, you know, to play in the slideshow at my high school graduation. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you subject your kids to such humility?

I can’t believe I am telling the internet this. If I didn’t though, you would not fully appreciate this:

Yeah, um, now where was I?

Kate is the universes way of providing me a slap in the face, a proverbial wake up call. You know, for the mom whose kid WON’T EVER DO THAT. I am so not serving anything with a bone next time we have dinner company. The best part of the meal was that she started barking … and panting … and barking … and panting. Please tell me I’m not alone? Your kid does this, right? Right? Why is no one answering me?