We went out for Chinese food last night - my parents, sisters, kids, neice, nephews, brothers-in-law, etc. (Paranthetically, my Sunday School students and I have a long-running argument about the term "brothers-in-law." They say it's "brother-in-laws." I tell them that I'm the one who taught English and that it's "brothers-in-law." Also, the term "Books of Mormon." As in, "Okay, get out your Books of Mormon so we can look up this scripture." They say I'm incorrect in saying that. That it's supposed to be "Book of Mormons." Like, "Get out your Book of Mormons." I tell them that there are many books, and these are what I'm referring to. We fight about it every week. I think I'm right.)
Annnnnnnnnnyways, when I told Sadie we were going out for Chinese food, her eyes got wide and she frowned and said, "I HATE Chinese food, Mom. I cannot ever, ever eat Chinese food again. I have had enough Chinese food for life." I assured her that it was Americanized Chinese food, and therefore, good.
So we had to wait for awhile to get our food - after all, there were 17 of us - and the kids were getting whiney and wiggley. And my smart sis, Nat, proposed a game to help bide the time - a fork-balancing-on-the-nose contest. It did the trick: