When you take your first-born child out to eat and she orders a hot dog, and it arrives at the table and you see that it is monstrously huge, and you realize there is no way she will fit the thing in her mouth without squishing ketchup and mustard all over herself, the table, the chair, and the floor, you make her wait while you cut it up into bite-sized pieces and spread around the condiments evenly.

When you find yourself in the same situation with your fourth-born, you glance at the hot dog, shrug, and keep eating your lunch. You find yourself giggling as you watch her devise a method for eating. First, lick off the ketchup and mustard. Second, remove the hot dog and eat it like corn-on-the-cob. Third, tear the bun in half and eat each piece from one end to the other. No problem.

peanut-and-hot-dog

The ketchup and mustard, though, did still end up all over herself (and the table, the chair, the floor…)

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