Dinner has been served. Grace has been said.
Mark, spooning up helpings of fish and potatoes: “Quite often, when I sit down to dinner, I am thankful that we can afford to pay people to provide us with a variety of good food. People worked in dangerous conditions for many hours to bring us this fish. People toiled in the hot sun so that we could have these potatoes.”
Oscar: “We know who brought us the peppers. Grandpa did.”
Me: “Yes! Grandpa toiled to grow the peppers for us.”
Mark: “No, that doesn’t count. You don’t toil when it’s a hobby farm.”
Me: “Good point. Grandpa probably enjoys growing the peppers.”
Mark: “Unless he secretly hates growing peppers. And the hobby farm is actually some kind of harsh, self-imposed penance.”
Me, considering the twenty-three acres: “Hmmm. That would explain a lot.”
Mark: “The problem is that it then raises a few more questions, wouldn’t you think?”
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