Exaggeration not included.
Thomas had a plateful of ranch dressing at lunch. I mean, I appreciate a bit of dressing with my chicken strips, too, but there's a limit. If the limit was Kansas, Thomas went past Mars.
By "a plateful" I don't mean that he had a bit too much and he smeared it around until there was a big mess. No, that would have been too...ordinary.
If you've been following the stories that have riddled my life this week, you'll have learned that Thomas is hell-bent on impressing and out-naughtying his cousin Danny. The two boys are 11 months apart, the perfect duo of destruction. Granted, most of the misbehavior has been performed by my devious darling with Danny merely adding his encouragement, but I swear he's doing it to show off for his older and cooler cousin.
Side note: I really should have thought this one through a bit better before putting seven kids (ages 14 months to 7 years) in the dining room together and walking out to "eat in peace." I know, Motherhood 101, right here. I fully accept the deserved blame there. But I was unaware that the condiments had also been left on the table. That one was not my fault.
So when my friend's seven-year-old daughter came out and said "umm one of those boys is putting all the [ranch] on his plate" my sister-in-law and I both figured it was our own child. I was closer to the door so I responded.
She. Was. Not. Exaggerating.
I walked in to find Thomas holding the bottle of ranch upside down over his plate, squeezing with all his might. Thankfully my parents invested in middle-grade paper plates instead of the cheap-of-the-cheap, because his plate was FILLED. You know those commercials where they put a quarter on a wet piece of toilet paper and it rips right through the "other brand"? Yeah, that would have happened. But thankfully my mom had the foresight to buy better paper plates, ones that had a nice, stiff, fairly deep rim around it.
Betcha didn't know you could hold a whole bottle's worth of dressing on a single paper plate. I now do.
It was filled. A good 3/4 cm deep. If you think that's not a lot, go try it out.
Filled.
The good news is that because his plate was previously so clean, I was able to return most of the dressing back into its bottle once I popped the squeezey lid off.
Oh yeah, he didn't have the whole, gaping neck that no one likes. No, he squeezed it all through that teeny tiny little "no spill" top.
Boys are joys.
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