Gummy worms and table scraps are the enemy.

Two thoughts today...two things they don't tell you about in the Dad Handbook.

Thought #1:  Gummy Worm as pet?

The other day, I innocently let my daughter buy a bag of gummy worms.  When she had eaten all but one of the, she announced she was naming that last worm Bob and keeping it forever.  I, being the uninformed Dad that I am, laughed and told her that was silly.  

My daughter cried.

That night at bedtime I found her in her bed, petting it and telling it how much she loved it.  I laughed again.

My daughter cried.

Luckily my wife's Mom Handbook must have included a section emotional attachment to snack food.  She handled it so much better than I did.  After a few minutes, she had our daughter believing that "Bob" was excited to be eaten at breakfast the next morning.  This fantasy went on:  Bob could not stop dancing with excitement and needed to be reminded to turn his music down so that everyone could get to sleep. 

My daughter laughed.

My wife is a genius.

And the next morning at breakfast, guess what happened.  My daughter ate "Bob" with her Eggos.

Thought #2: I am a Table Scrap Junkie

I don't consider myself to be overweight (despite being told otherwise by our Wii Fit), but when seen without my shirt on, I do kind of resemble a snake digesting a beach ball.  I carry all my extra weight right in the tummy.  So I could stand to lose a few pounds and I've been working to do that.  What I've discovered after a few weeks of actually paying attention to what I eat, is that I eat just as much food cleaning up after a meal as I did while sitting at the table.  

My son left half a cheeseburger on his plate - I'd polish it off.

The daughter didn't eat all of her meatloaf - I'll take that.

Breadsticks, bowls of soup, ice cream, pizza crusts, corn dog scraps - all find their way to my stomach on their way to the trash.

Nobody warned me about this.  And I need help.

I am a table scrap junkie.

Today, I caught myself standing over the garbage can with a handful of McDonald'd fries.  I yelled for my wife and she calmly talked me down, and took them from me and threw them away.  She also took the rest of the food from me before I could get my mouth on it.  

I need help.

I hope the next time I'm cleaning up after a meal and she isn't there to lean on, I can be strong when the half eaten ham and cheese sandwich is calling to me.

My gut is depending on it.