Mulgated Dinner

Having a meal with Piper is like inviting a squirrel and a talking parrot to the same table.  She wiggles.  She leaps about.  She busts out Lady Gaga lyrics in the middle of your sentence. She either hoards all the food or refuses everything on the table. She intentionally drops things under the table so she climb off her chair and explore.  She brings back the dropped piece of pasta and some black beans from last night’s dinner. She eats both. She interrupts.  We ask her to wait her turn to speak.  She waves her hand obnoxiously in the air waiting to be called on.  Normal stuff, right? Entirely mulgated. Her dinner manners seem appropriate for the ripe age of four.  After twenty seconds of an excruciatingly long wait Piper puts her glass down and smooths the napkin in her lap.  Dramatic pause.  Then she declares something profound like “I’ve decided not to be human anymore.  I’m keeping my options open.” Which logically explains the squirrel and parrot behavior.


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