Dinner stories

For those who care, FART the rubber glove was my pet rubber glove (See "Sloppy Joes and Good Memories" for first reference to my boy, FART).

I used to bring him to the dinner table with me, and he'd sing his fart song during dinner. Mostly, his warbling consisted of me squeezing the glove and helping it make fart noises. FART used to make us laugh so hard we'd shoot milk out of our noses during dinner.

I don't know whatever happened to FART. I think my parents took him, or banished him to bathroom cleaning.

FART was funny, though. I guess you just had to be there.

The legend of the Canty liver stand-off is a tale of four children who stood together against their parental oppressor and a plate of liver.

My mother (who obviously loves my father very much) cooked liver for my Dad about once a year. My father was the only person in our household, and we believe, on the planet, who likes liver.

Despite it being covered in tasty onions and brown gravy, the four of us were not buying what mom was selling. We knew there was liver was hiding underneath the gravy goodness.

We pushed the liver around the plate for more than an hour, and even cleaned the plate of all our vegetables. The liver stood alone, untouched.

My mom, who was nothing if not determined, made the four of us had to sit at the table until we finished our liver. Another hour went by. Then another.

One by one, we fell asleep at the dinner table.

We'd won that round, but liver would show up another evening, and the stand-off would begin anew.