I am sitting at the kitchen table.
In front of me is my Arby's Chicken Salad Sandwich, with the grapes and nuts in it (that I love) and my french fries and Coke.
To my right is my daughter, Courtney, with her Roast Beef Sandwich, fries and Iced Tea.
Across the table is my daughter, Chloe, with her Roast Beef Sandwich, that she meticulously opened, slathered with several ounces of Arby's sauce, closed back up, and is shoving into her mouth.
We begin to talk - me and these two 15 year old, basketball-jersey-wearin', mouth smackin', loud speakin', pony-tail wearin', laugh-at-every-ridiculous-thing, rough around the edges ... teenage, girls.
We talk a bit about this.
We talk a bit about that.
I am in heaven, savoring every bite of my delicious sandwich (have you had this sandwich??), looking up only every so often at my darling girl's faces as they cram these Roast Beef sandwiches into their mouths - pieces of roast beef hanging off the sides of their lips, chewed up globs inside their mouths I'd rather not see, spit flying as they try to get all their stories out of their mouths at the same time they are shoving food in ... I have to divert my eyes, so as to not throw-up my delicious Chicken Salad sandwich and yummy fries.
Then ... as I am eating (like a civilized human being, mind you), looking across the table at the one cow-like-child ...... out of the corner of my eye, I see Courtney ... lower her head slowly to the square of Arby's paper that is her plate for her sandwich droppings, fries, crumbs and slobber ... position her ant-eater-like-mouth around a piece of roast beef that has fallen out of her sandwich and then ... SUCK IT UP - ssssshhhhllllllllluuuurrrrrrrp - like an animal on National Geographic.
I just look at her.
In amazement.
She sees that I saw her ... bend over, ever so deliberately and precisely position her mouth right over this hunk of meat, open her jaws, inhale ... and SUCK IT UP ... and she begins to laugh!
I can't take my eyes off of her.
I begin to laugh.
Because I can.
Because ... these are not my children.
I don't know where my adorable little, bows-in-their-curly-hair, ruffles around their socks, Mary Jane wearin', doll-playin' ... sweet, eat like young ladies ... girls went, but ... they were not sittin' at this table with me - enjoying this delicious Arby's meal. No they were not.
On the upside ... This is yet another area I have failed as a mother - manners and food etiquette. At the rate I am going ... I will definitely reach 100% failure. That has got to be some sort of record. I will probably get an award - be written about in newspaper articles, be called as a guest for the Oprah show. 100% ... it won't be long now.