This Wasn't Supposed to Be About Bacon

So was your Mother's Day the very pink of perfection?

Here we are after gorging ourselves in traditional fashion at a fancy local Mother's Day lunch buffet. We do this every year with the Diller side of the family. 

Clearly, we're not a family who knows how to coordinate our clothing patterns. Lord-a-mercy. 

Aw, look, it's five sweet-looking children. Don't you just want to take them home with you?

Whoopsie. Looks like someone(s) had a little too much bacon. 

I noticed something this year about our behavior at the buffet. The adults seem to feel that they're obliged to sample just about everything. Smoked duck? Bring it. Smoked salmon? Sure. Made-to-order omelets? Don't mind if I do. Three different desserts? Surely we mustn't waste food. Are we trying to get my father-in-law's money's worth? Are we worried about where our next meal is coming from? Are we just gluttons? The jury's out on these profound questions.

The kids, meanwhile? I wasn't kidding earlier about the bacon.

My plate (one of several):

My daughter's plate:

Houston, do we have a problem?

Let us observe the results. Adults, nourished with a wide variety of wholesome, gourmet foods: 

Kids, nourished with bacon: 

Huh. 

Meanwhile, we'll just zoom in for a moment ...

Whaddya know? The Professor reads my blog! (And gets more timely, un-subtle hints from Vanessa, who I believe is now toting similar jewelry of her own. We all need friends like this in our lives.)

So after the buffet and photo session, we headed home and everyone piled onto my bed to listen to me read The Willoughbys(wicked, funny) until my throat was sore. Then we lazed around some more, and even with Caroline interjecting her important needs, thoughts, and desires for popcorn every few minutes, I managed to read When You Reach Me in its entirety, which is this year's Newbery Medal winner and has a delightful twist that made me think all about time travel and feel about as scrambled in the brain as I did during Season 5 of LOST.

And somewhere in all of the rush of the weekend, the very best Mother's Day gift I received was the moment I realized all over again that both because of and in spite of me, my children are having a happy childhood. With bacon. The End.