So a couple days before Christmas, Brian brought Kate home from Girl Scouts. The other kids had already eaten dinner so Kate had her supper alone with me and her dad. Apparently, she misheard “pot roast” when I fixed her plate. After she’d finished, she asked politely, “May I have more cockroach, please?”
Good parents would have clued her in to the misapprehension. Unfortunately for her, she got us. We shared a glance over her head.
“Certainly,” Brian said smoothly. “You can certainly have more cockroach.”
“There should be plenty,” I said. “I cooked a 3 pound cockroach.”
So if Kate comes to your house and coos over your delicious cockroach dinner…it’s not her fault, really.
