Tonight I made my sixteen-year-old son J finish some chips and dip. He said he was finished, but I begged to differ. Normally I don’t police his meals, really. One of the benefits of having teenaged boys in the house is that they don’t need to be coerced to eat. I would even venture to say that the lack of need for Jim and me to be directly involved with making sure they eat their vegetables (they do) or try new things (they do) almost makes up for the fact that they eat us out of house and home, as the saying goes. Almost. The reason I stepped in to…
