Make Me Fat

There's been a bit of construction going on in our neighborhood, up the hill on the main drag. At a location I pass several times a week. I finally spotted the modest sign nailed to a post by the road: "DD coming soon." That's right, the famous doughnut establishment.

After dropping Oldest off at gymnastics a few days ago, the boys and I passed that spot. I decided to share my doleful feelings while we whizzed by. "Oh, great. Another make-me-fat restaurant."

They loved that. Engineer guffawed. Charmer took a while, but he was on board with the sarcasm pretty soon after. I continued in a country twang, "Jest what I need, 'nother place ta Make-Me-Fat."

The next day at dinner one of the boys brought Oldest into the joke. Hubs was working so I didn't feel guilty about getting them riled up. Soon we had a whole table full of budding fatso rednecks. Charmer sits next to me, and he and I got into a little exchange.

"I don't need ta go ta that new make-me-fat restaurant," I insisted.

"Oh, yes, I'm gonna take yoo there and make yoo fat," he intoned, wagging his finger.

"Don't need ta go inside, I could jest drive by and look at it and get fat."

(Oldest stopped breathing and fell halfway over.)

"No, no! I'm a-gonna feed ya and feed ya until ya get faaaat."

"Why on earth would ya wanna do that?" I was truly interested.

"Ta fatten ya up so I can EAT YA! num num num num!" He scooped his hands to his mouth like little shovels.

I choked with laughter at this unexpected Hansel and Gretel take-off. We've got a real little actor on our hands.

As for the make-me-fat restaurant, well, at least it will be right across from the YMCA . . .