My Dirty Little Secret
My kids aren’t habitually messy. Their rooms aren’t pigstys. They put away games and books when they’re done with them. But sit them down for meals, and the neanderthal emerges from deep inside. Utensils get ignored. Napkins get ripped to shreds. Hand-to-mouth feeding occurs, as if they fear a shrieking gargoyle will jump from the hall closet and snatch away morsels.