This is a picture of my son, Big A.
Big A is also known as “Chipmunk” or “Munk” for short by The Doc.
Why?
Because he likes to chipmunk his food. I don’t know why. I can’t even remember exactly when it started. He wasn’t always like this.
Here is our typical suppertime conversation:
Me: Big A! Chew your food.
…
Me: A! Chew and swallow your food.
…
Me: Chew and swallow, A.
…
Me: Hello? Munk? Chew and swallow your food. Now.
…
Me (you’re seeing a pattern here, I’m guessing): Chew. Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnd swallow.
…
Me: Did you chew?
Big A: mumble, muffle, mumble
Me: Let me see your mouth.
Big A: (opening wide with bits and pieces tumbling out)
Me: Oh, that is so gross. Chew and swallow. Right now!
…
Me: A! Let me see again. Have you chewed anymore? Oooh, yuck. That can’t feel comfortable. It’s just gross. Swallow already. Please!
…
Me: Swaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh-loooooooooooooooooooh.
The scene can go on for 20 minutes, I kid you not. And even when I think he’s actually finished his meal, he sometimes surprises me later. Like a lot later. Bedtime even.
It’s probably been a week or so, but I remember an incident when we were getting ready to brush teeth and read books at bedtime. This is about 8:30pm. Supper is at 6:30.
I told Big A to brush his teeth and he grabbed the cup and filled it with water. I reminded him that rinsing came after brushing. So he promptly opened his mouth wide, like a hippo on a NatGeo nature special, and showed me some gnarly mass of something that he claimed was chicken.
Two Hour Old Chicken Mush.
In his mouth. Hence, he is our little chipmunk.





