When my wife was pregnant, I used to go with her to her OB appointments. For reasons too confusing to get into, we ended up with a doctor in Toledo rather than one here in Bowling Green. She was pretty nice, even if she gave off the vibe of being the busiest person in the world.
After the appointment, before Lori would go to work and I would either go back home or to my job, we would stop at a bagel place. There isn't anywhere here in BG to get a halfway decent bagel, and we both seriously lust after them from time to time. We'd eat bagels and talk about the appointment, our plans for the delivery, and coping strategies.
Then Sylvia was born...and we've had very little occasion to be in the vicinity of a bagel place around breakfast time. We could, I suppose, buy some and keep them in the house, but the bagels in this town all kind of suck, and frozen bagels are an abomination unto God.
Yesterday, I stopped by Costco on my way home to pick up an industrial pack of paper towels and other stupendously over-sized supplies. When I went past their bakery, I noticed they had pretty good looking bagels...supplied to them by one of the national chains, I believe. So I picked up some. When I got home, Sylvia spotted them and demanded to try one. We gave her one...and she (as you can see) went to town on it. By the time she went to bed, there was a mere 1 1/2" fragment left.
This is, of course, one of the ways we know for sure she's my kid...the other being her abnormally long toes. It does, however, bring up an interesting question: is her bagel lust inherited, or did we program it into her with those post-appointment stops?
The answer, if ever discovered, might just revolutionize science.