There is something about food and my daughter's bottom. For whenever she is feeding it activates tiny little spring in her buttocks that do not allow her to sit still and eat quietly. You would think that we have laced each piece of food with sugar or speed. Take a whiney girl, give her dinner and whala! you have a happy, glowing, floating speed freak child. At times it is a amusing. At most times after a long day, it is annoying as hell. It is even worse when the pregnant momma bear is exponentially loosing her patience just as fast as the cub is gaining her speed. It is a recipe for disaster.

One night, as the junkie was beginning her meal dance. You know the one, that starts with the head bobbing as she is chewing, which spreads to the shoulders swaying and shrugging. The dance that seems to expand her little frame like Popeye when he swallowed a whole can of spinach. Emma had two bites and Wham! Bamm! Alacazam! Head bobbing, shoulders shrugging, and bottom bouncing her right off of the seat; literally. Before I had time to drop my fork, she was head over heals off of the chair. By the time the fork did drop, she had caught herself with her hands while her butt and kicking legs were stuck straight up in the air, supported by the kitchen chair. She was screaming, food falling out of her mouth. Abbie and I were vengefully laughing at the sight. Then we got to share the warm glow of telling her, just like the generations of parents before us had done to their food induced speed freak children, "See, I told you so."

On another instance at the dinner table, I knew the dance was going to start again, because Emma was already on and off the kitchen chair and the food had not even been placed in front of her. She was making fart noises with her mouth and laughing hysterically. Then she had this mischievous look in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I asked sharply.
"I'm going to fart." she informed me as she appeared to be lifting her leg off of the seat.

Then her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, creative humor was replaced with sheer terror on her face. She jumped from the chair holding her bottom and screaming as she ran out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

"Poop-oo is coming! Poop-oo iiiiiissss cooooommmmmiinnnnng!!!!!!"

Again, my wife and I sat and chuckled uncontrollably until guilt fell upon us, and we checked on her.