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The glare I am receiving from him author can only mean that little Lee is the last person he wants dumped author on him author on his day off. Brian has told me that, in his professional opinion, the options available to my sister, with regard to this child, are limited to exorcism. This becomes apparent to everyone at the table. While food is being passed around, little Lee sits on his hands and shakes his head side-to-side, repeating his mantra, "Not eating it, not eating it, not eating it," which increases in both speed and volume. There is a major backup of side dishes, while my husband, in a final bargaining plea, eats a huge mouthful of squash, his least favorite vegetable. "Honey, you ate a verb." I can't resist pointing out. My mother pinches my under-arm, her mouth clenched. "What is wrong with you? He's not gonna eat that now." Almost everyone lingers in the dining room at the end of the meal.
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