Too Much of a Good Thing

My nine-year-old and I were talking to a friend yesterday. The conversation centered on the fact that he and I have been spending a great deal of time alone together the past week since my daughter is on a field trip and his mother is gallivanting in San Diego. We've had the house to ourselves for a few days. It's been pretty nice. She asked him if we'd been drinking beer and watching bad movies. Bless his heart, he said he would never drink beer. "So, what have you been doing since the women have been away?"

I'd bought him a bottle of root beer and we'd made pizzas the night before. We put whatever we wanted on the pizzas - didn't have to waste our resources on making a plain cheese for the females.

Then the topic turned to bacon. One of his favorite pizza toppings and also one of his favorite breakfasts, appetizers, and deserts. "My mom never buys us bacon."

Wow, I didn't realize he wanted bacon so badly. So I suggested we go for a grocery shop - to get bacon. The idea was since it was our last night without the women-folk we'd make a meal of all the things we most like to eat. We explored the isles, picking out random foods he liked but rarely got to eat. Lime Jell-o. Frozen mozzarella sticks. Canned chili and french fries (mostly for me). And of course, bacon. Two packages of bacon. 

We mixed up the Jell-o and put it in the fridge. We put the cheese sticks in the oven and got out the griddle. I guided him through the process of cooking bacon to his liking. He had never been allowed to make bacon for himself before. He was a little timid about getting popped by the sizzling grease, but adapted to the process soon enough. We only cooked one package, thank goodness. 

I think I ate one piece of bacon. He gorged himself on cholesterol and deliciousness. By the time our "meal" was over I could actually hear my heart trying to pump the coagulating animal fat through my veins. The boy lay on the couch moaning, his hands clutched to his abdomen as he stared like a zombie at cartoons on the television. He went amazingly quickly from, "I can't believe I ate a whole pound of bacon," to, "Do you think the Jell-o is ready?" It wasn't sep up yet, thank goodness.

This morning when I woke him up to get ready for school I asked if his stomach was feeling better. It was.  I also asked if he wanted the other pound of bacon for breakfast. He said, "No, let's save it for tomorrow." He opted for the Jell-o instead.