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It was payday, so I decided to treat myself and my kids to dinner. We went to this restaurant that serves up gigantic burgers, I mean the kind that takes both hands to hold together, and a jack to open your mouth wide enough to actually take a bite. My children were then 6, 8, and 10. My 6 and 10 year old ordered chicken nuggets off the children's menu, but my 8 year old, and pickiest eater, wanted a cheese burger.

The waitress brings out our plates and his eyes swelled almost as big as the burger when they brought it out. I told him he didn't have to eat the whole thing, we could take part of it home if he couldn't finish it. He went to town on that thing, though.

We're all sitting around the table, laughing and talking, the burger boy doing his best at annihilating that cheese burger that was almost as big as his face. I sat there and watched him take bite after bite, washing it down with his soda, and grabbing a french fry from time to time. After about twenty minutes, he has completely finished it much to my amazement. His plate is now empty. He washes his mouth out with his coke, looks down at his plate and asks,

"Mom, where'd my burger go?" To which I responded,

"You ate it."

"Oh."

I never laughed so hard in my life.

Learn more about this author, Kelly Sandefur.
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