Meat and pudding

A couple of things ...

Last evening I was yelling at S in the dining room to stop doing ... whatever it was she was doing, or to start doing what she should have been or ... something, as I was heading out to the patio to grill dinner. When I went through the living room, still shouting back at S, with a gallon-size Zip-Loc bag full of pork chops and marinade, JP looked up and screamed, "Aahhhhh! He killed S!"

Later, and on another food note, S was asking for dessert (she was not, in fact, in that Zip-Loc bag) and, as is typical, her mother told her that she could have some if she could get whatever it was she wanted for herself. Some time after that, Kristy was in the kitchen to get the last of the banana pudding that Heather had made and brought over for the ravioli feast last Sunday.

The pudding was gone.

"Who ate the last of the banana pudding!" she shouted, to which S replied, sardonically, "You said I could have dessert if I could get it myself."