One of my favorite cousins spent a few days in the House on the Corner with her two boys, 13 and 16, who were playing in a golf tournament near Small Town. I'm not sure what the relationship of the boys are to me (are they first cousins once removed? I think?) but they brought back many memories, specifically the memory of boy appetites.
On the final night of the tournament we ate out in one of Small Town's restaurants. The 16-year-old, who is 6'6", ordered sizzling fajitas. The 13-year-old, who is at least a foot shorter, ordered a breakfast chicken fried steak. The slab of gravy-covered fried beef (see photo) came with hash browns, two scrambled eggs, and two pieces of toast. He also ordered a side of two pancakes.
"The pancakes are enormous," I warned him.
"Really, the pancakes are really, really big," the waitress warned him.
"Are you sure you want pancakes? That's quite a bit of food," his mother warned him.
It was okay, he told us all. He going to share them with his brother. And he sliced off a third of the gigantic cakes to share.
An hour later this was the same scene:
Then he had a cake pop for dessert.
If I kept a list of all the things I miss about having Boys at home it would be lengthy but keeping them fed would be at the bottom of the list. Or on the back of the list. Or not on the list at all.
Because hoooo-boy! Like my own Boys, these boys are appreciative and non-critical eaters, but the hollow legs are long.
I'm just glad my cousin is the one who needs to keep those legs filled.