Friday, December 4, 2009
Bar Mitzvahzilla vs. the Burger
He made a quick job of the onion rings. Made it half way through the french fries. He picked up the burger and tried to eat it. Bar Mitzvahzilla is not the most coordinated fellow on the planet. He's also fourteen, an age where his limbs all seem too big for him and everything seems slightly out of whack.
Husband - the engineering type - was giving tips and advice from his side of the table.
"Flip the burger over so it has a lower center of gravity and more stability," he said.
I look at Husband. Is he going to set up a rope and pulley system to get this thing into Bar Mitzvahzilla's mouth next? Maybe he'd like the crayons the restaurant gave Daughter and the kid's menu to write on so he could come up with some quick algebraic calculations and devise a system of consumption?
Finally, Bar Mitzvahzilla put the burger down. A little worn out but still hungry, he began trolling for food on our plates. First he ate half my quesadilla, then he mooched part of Daughter's hotdog, then he ate the contents of the bread basket in the middle of the table.
In the box of take home food? Two half-pound burgers.
Score: Bar Mitzvahzilla 0 Burger 1