Feeding the werewolf

Mark's class had a Halloween party a while back, where a mom passed out some pretty cool party favors. They were little orange bowls shaped like dog dishes, filled with little round cookies that looked like...well, yes, dog food. But don't worry, it wasn't really dog food -- it was werewolf food!

That's what the label said, anyway. I still had my doubts (it really does look like dog food!), so I stashed it where I stash all the other junk food Mark brings home when teachers deem it diabetes-unfriendly. (Bless them all, no one wants to make a mistake and give Mark food he's not supposed to have; so when in doubt, they send it home.) It went into the Pantry of No Return (also known as the Pantry Stuffed to the Gills with Food I Buy but Never Eat).

Last night, Mark was feeling a bit low, and wanted a snack. This happened at the same time I was talking to Kelley on the phone, so instead of waiting for me to offer him a granola bar or glass of milk, Mark seized control of his snack choice. Hence, he walked into the living room carrying a little dish of werewolf food he was trying to open and spill all over the floor.

He finally opened it up, so I kept on talking to Kelley. Imagine my surprise when I turned to see this:

Yup, there's my pride and joy, eating like a dog. When I asked what he was doing, he answered like a dog, too, simply barking out, "Woof!"

And yep, I'm awfully proud. I used to be the proud mother of a cute, bright little boy. Now I've morphed into one of those proud "pet parents" instead -- mother to a cute, bright, little werewolf pup.

He's not all that hairy yet, and he's got a pretty good disposition for a baby werewolf. But you might wanna steer clear of my house during the next full moon anyway...