This is my youngest sons spot at the dinner table a few nights ago. It always looks like this. You should have seen the floor. Again, typical.
When Quinn was excused from the dinner table that night, Billy turned to me and said “Look at Quinn’s spot. It looks like Henry the 8th ate there.” He then grabbed the chicken leg and pretended to rip meat off of it. With a slurred voice, sounding like it was stuffed with food and had a bad British accent, he said “Awf with their haeds” and pretended to throw the chicken leg on the ground.
Viking blood runs through my side of the family. I can only guess that Quinn got his fair share of it.