more than enough

Rarely, are there any leftovers.

The dinner hour screams through and by the time my kitchen closes down for the evening -- dishes done, counters wiped, garbage emptied -- there's hardly a crumb.

And if there is an odd bit left, it's usually gone by 9 pm when the bedtime snackers re-enter, re-open and re-mess up said kitchen.

I'd call them mice, but they are teenagers. 

And there's absolutely nothing mousey about a teen who grows two inches each day and wears a size 11 shoe. Nothing minuscule about them at all. They don't nibble, they gnaw. They don't scurry, they scavenge. They're not mice, they're mammoths. And, what’s more, they bring friends ...  read more ...

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