My future children are going to be chubby.

Peter and I agreed early on that we would never feed Viggo off the table. But in the kitchen, Viggo acts like a very anxious sous-chef on his first dinner shift. It was just a matter of time before a piece of meat slipped off the counter and into his waiting jowls. And I can't tell you how my heart warmed seeing  my sweet pup enjoy a bite of bacon. It was a lot like when I  watched that documentary on Amish teens during rumspringa (the year when they enter the "mainstream" world and basically go on highly encouraged  drug binge.) Once I saw Viggo enjoying the forbidden fruit..er, meat, I couldn't let it stop there. I wanted him to have steak. No, I wanted him to try filet mignon. Then I wanted him to sleep in bed with us. No, I wanted him to have our bed and we would sleep on the floor.

I wanted to give him everything he has ever desired because it felt good to watch  pleasure that you were solely responsible for. 

So yes, chances are my future children are going to be Type-2 Diabetics who suck their thumbs until they are 19.