...with A View of the Styx

I'm going to Hell. Believe me there are many reasons why, but after my most recent foot feast I now have my own room reserved.

We had just finished Trick-or-Treating. The kids had their very full bags and we also still had a large bowl-full of candy remaining. So I proceeded to divvy it up between the two kids, pouring half the bowl into each of their bags.

They tried to get me to agree that they should be allowed to gorge themselves on it that night, claiming it would make it easier on us because then at least it would all be gone.

You gotta love their reasoning skills.

My reply was that that this is a whole lot more candy than they usually have and I'm not going to allow them to pig out on it because aside from having to listen to them groan over the resulting stomach aches, it's also far more calories than they should have in such a short period of time. I finished with "...and I'm not going to have you two - at your age - ballooning to 150 pounds like those porky kids we see when we occasionally drop by McDonald's."

If the proverbial pin had dropped right then, it would have sounded like a crowbar. But they both agreed to only a piece or two a day.

Don't look at me that way; I thought I was being a good dad. My kids are still pretty young, at least from my perspective and while neither is visibly overweight, thank God, I don't see the need to tempt fate. From my own personal experience I can tell you that it's a whole hell of a lot easier to pack on the weight than it is to shed it.

Now I feel like a complete shit because after they left the room my wife informed me that our daughter does, in fact, weigh nearly that much. I might just as well have pushed my nose up and made oinking sounds at her.

Yes, Satan, that's "Kelly" with a "Y."