“I know.” “He ate my hash browns when I had my back turned trying to flag down our waitress.” ”Sorry about that.” She grimaced as her brother shoved a forkful of dripping waffles into his mouth. At least they’d managed to avoid any media attention. The last thing she needed was Tab’s syrup-coated face splashed all over the society pages. She made a mental note to increase their annual donation to the juvenile diabetes charity. “I wanted to save them but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I like my hands.” “Where does he put it all?” “That’s a question Dad and I tried to answer for years. I have several theories. Most of them involve biological thermodynamics, hormones, and once, after watching him eat two large Hawaiian pizzas, pocket dimensions.” “Now that’s a quantum physics theory I wouldn’t mind hearing you explain.” Robert held his breath when Tab licked the last drop of syrup off his fork. “Do you think he’s finished?”
What do You think about Sometimes It Is Rocket Science?
