Things have been going well for the most part. Kato continues to eat and sleep. We continue to be pretty tired. Alden continues to point at him and say, “Baby,” before moving on to other, more interesting things like old grapes or crumpled bits of paper.

We’ve been resisting temptation for 10 days now, but today we broke down. Kato’s resemblance to delicious food simply got the better of Robbi and me, and we had to feast.

In our defense, look at him. One glance and all I can think of is bratwurst, fresh off the grill.

Even worse, he also smells delicious.

It’s a tough choice, whether to love your baby or eat him, coming down to whether one prefers a delicious meal or a lifetime of happy memories.

I came down on the side of eating the baby. I’m an immediate gratification kind of guy.

He was every bit as tasty as I had imagined.

I’m not sure what was better, the toes:

Or the nose.

As I continued my meal, I kept worrying that Robbi would show up and put a stop to it. After all, Kato is technically her son, too. All at once the door opened, and Robbi stormed in. But her objection was not that I was eating the baby, but that I wasn’t sharing my snack.

The woman was hungry.

I could only stand back and marvel at her appetite.

Eventually we both had stuffed ourselves and could eat no more. We felt sheepish, to be sure. We knew that what we’d done was wrong.

But when we inspected the remains of our child, it seemed that we had done no lasting harm. If we are lucky, Kato will be game for a lifetime of such meals.

At least a few years, until he gets wise enough to protest, or too heavy to lift.

For now, he will be constantly undermined by his undeniable edibility.

It’s hard to be a baby.