From Biafra to Darfur
For years I never dabbled in the "get the kids" to eat game. It seemed like a sucker's deal to me. I remember clearly staring at a well-done piece of shoe leather steak as a kid and hearing my mother bray "There are children starving in Biafra, now eat your protein!" (Yes, my mother really talked like that. She still does. I'm afraid I say the same thing--"eat your protein") I wasn't smart enough to realize that there was no connection between my lousy cut of steak and starving kids in Biafra, but my kids seem more geographically astute and more advanced in the study of logic. Does Biafra even still exist? Or is it now part of the Sudan? It doesn't matter. Stupidly, I somehow fell into the "eat your dinner" trap. It was a slow tumble into the pit of nonsense. My kids are thin--way thin. My daughter may weigh 55 lbs now and my son tops out at 44.5 lbs. They're fine. In fact they're built the same way their father and I were...