I can always tell when it’s five o’clock in my house. That’s the time when my little vultures start circling me as if I’m fresh dead meat. The whining starts in around then and continues until dinner is served. The “I’m hungry” cries are enough to test even the most patient of people. You would never know that they’d just had a snack not even two hours prior to this swarm fest. One would think the poor children are never fed. As famished as they appear, I half expect someone to be nibbling on my calf as if it were a giant turkey leg. The sneaky little things will even steal food off their plates as I’m getting their dinner together. I will turn my back to open the fridge, only to find that an apple slice has mysteriously disappeared from their plates when I turn back around. I bet I am asked twenty times in a matter of three minutes if it’s almost done. I am pretty speedy, but a magician I am not! And even though they claim to have been beyond starving, they usually can’t seem to finish what’s on their plates. We then begin the whole bargaining process about how much they have to eat before they can be done. How can these two children possibly be the same two people who were going to die of starvation just moments before?