Full-bellied livin'

More and more, I am giving credence to the notion that our uninhibited selves manifest in our children. Or at least that's what we see when we look at them.
A stellar example Monday night: (Caveat: This is what happens when your husband finds himself unemployed for the first day in a two-week stretch between jobs, for the first time in nearly two decades and home, alone, all day.) We decide to take Josie to a national, sit-down restaurant chain fondly parodied in Glee as Breadsticks.

It was her pre-first birthday party and my pre-last day at work party and our pre-moving celebration and an excuse for my husband to get out of the house.

Josie gleefully ate said breadsticks, mashed potatoes, chicken and cheese tortellini. And then? She passed out. Cold. In the car. Full belly. Heater on. Oh yeah.

Only a child would have such confidence and shamelessness and joie de vivre as to eat carbs, forgo vegetables, guzzle drinks, wave at strangers and talk with full mouths and not feel that's in any way bad. It's also good that those people have parents so they don't do that all the time.
But we can take lessons from children in how to find and enjoy the good things.
Eat up those fleeting pleasurable moments and then enjoy a full-bellied rest.