Thursday, August 24, 2006

Like Father, Like Son


Atticus has many titles in our house. . . "Cliff's mini-me," "Little Cliff," "Baby Cliff," and so on. . . Not only are my boys similar in looks, but in facial and vocal expressions, and bodily gestures as well. Often I feel like none of my DNA transferred to this child, and that I was merely the carrier for Cliff's clone.

The true and only difference in Atticus and Cliff lies in their eating habits. While Cliff is infamous for his voracious appetite and willingness to eat just about anything (bat and two-week old tacos included), it takes "considerable" effort to convince Atticus to venture from his tried-and-true favorite foods. The above photo is a great testimony to this difference.

The setting is Paul Bunyans, a famous all-you-can-eat breakfast place in the Wisconsin Dells. Huge steaming plates of buttermilk pancakes, ham and sausage, scrambled eggs, and homemade donuts are heaped upon the mess hall-style tables, a manly man's breakfast dream-come-true. Well, not Atticus! He sat there the entire time pouting, the only empty plate in the place perched before him, refusing to take a single bite (we did get some sausage into him, but not without a few tears and several pleas for yogurt and cereal).

Atticus's pout in the photo is real; Cliff's, a father's desperate attempt to get a smile out of his mini-me.

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