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Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Whose Plate Is It, Anyway?



Ours is perhaps the only house where playing with one's food is terribly encouraged and taken to a MUCH higher level, I think - especially, when flaunted in the face of absolute suckage - can you guess whose plate this is?


Is it Thing One?


The Boy?


Thing Two, perhaps?


Or, was it this little devil?

Either way, rest assured that no one was harmed and that none of the animals (of the four-legged kind) were fed directly from the table and that burping, sneezing and random acts of flatulence - not to mention, various other forms of expelling one's bodily functions and there ARE many, trust me - were kept at a minimum during the filming of last night's dinner.

We're not total heathens, you know!

But, do NOT try this at home, I am a professional and have been laughing at the face of etiquette since 1993!

Sooooo....whose plate is it, anyway?

[Edited to add:  Dana, you hit the beefy on the head, it was Mini-me and you'd be surprised she can be, with a piece of London broil.  Garth (not his real name) and I refer to her as, "our little carnivore!"  Kate, not this day....but, thanks for playing along, anyway!]

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