More sweet than bitter

When we were down in New Jersey visiting my grandfather in the hospital, we had to spend some time in the hospital cafeteria. It was pretty tiny and lame as hospital cafeterias go, but I guess it's all relative. I'm just used to the MGH cafeteria, which beats the pants off a lot of buffet restaurants* you could go to. (King's Table, anyone?) I guess Mass General has to have a kick ass cafeteria when 11 THOUSAND people work there. (That's more people than live in my hometown. I'm not sure if that says anything about the hospital, but it sure says something about my roots.)

We were there around lunchtime both Saturday and Sunday, so we would feed Nolan his baby gruel at one of the tables down there, and then share an overpriced turkey sandwich or salad bar between us. On the Sunday, my younger brother was also there, and he came down to the cafeteria with us.

There was a table-tent advertisement for a Valentine's Day promotion on a lot of the tables. (Only a few weeks out of date.) It basically suggested that you buy your sweetheart a slice of dessert pie at the cafeteria. 'Cause nothing says "I love you" like hyperglycemic shock, I guess.

Nolan took a liking to the little paper tent, and decided to sample it. Or maybe the picture of the pie looked good to him. Whatever the case, he went after it:


He likes to chew on paper items like the newspaper and magazines. I usually give him one of those heavy cardboard paper junk mail flyers whenever I'm opening the mail to keep him occupied for a bit. The trick is to get it away from him before he gets it so soggy and shredded that he's able to ingest pieces of it. That we don't like. (I've found bits of paper in his diaper before - I don't think it's harmful, but I'd rather avoid it if possible.)

So that's what we did with the little table tent - took it away before the saliva reached critical mass.

Then we put it back on the table.

Then my brother decided to augment it a bit with his pen and return it to the table. Here's how we left it:

You gotta take your fun where you can.

Thanks for reading.

*Not that restaurants have pants. But you know what I mean.