I’m sure Papa never thought he’d be saying those words to his baby boy. But there was the question, and the answer was most definitely yes!
Mama makes pâté for me at least once a week. She says it’s very good for me, but all I know is it’s delicious. Sometimes it’s veal, but tonight’s was chicken. It was my back-up meal. Lest anyone think I devour everything my mama makes…. She said she didn’t feel like making dinner, so she “threw together” a veggie pot pie with a whole-wheat biscuit crust, and served mine and Papa’s over some shredded rotisserie chicken. I could tell it was leftover chicken the moment I tasted it (but my dog didn’t seem to mind when I threw it overboard). I picked out a few carrots—they’re orange, you know—but sent the rest of the sad, sad pot pie sailing. But not my pâté. That was all for me. (Mama and Papa are very generous when it comes to liver.)
Better luck tomorrow, Mama.