My eight-year-old son has been eating me out of house and home. During winter break, he never stopped pestering me about feeding him. Yesterday took the cake.
"Mama, I'm hungry. Can you make me a little snack?"
"No, Bubba," I replied. "Dinner will be in about an hour and a half. You can wait until then."
"No, I can't." He walked over to the phone and began dialing.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm calling 911."
"What? Put that phone down right now. 911 is for real emergencies. You do not have a real emergency!"
"But Mama, this is a real emergency. If you don't feed me right now, I'm going to die!"