We were laughing out loud this morning, Bob and me, when our neighbor Dee came round to borrow some frosted flakes and a cigarette just to tide her through till the kids were off to their cheerleading classes. So Dee was bitchin about how hard it is to get their five kids up in the morning. And I said, Honey, you don't know nothin! All you Gotta do with yours is wake 'em up. We gotta get a forklift up the stairs just to get Beth off the bed!

We don't need a forklift really - not just yet, anyways. But I have to hold my hands up and admit that our Beth has put on a bit of weight recently. I mean she's not obese or anything, but the doc's been complainin that 290 pounds is too big for an 8-year old. I said to him, doc, there ain't nothing wrong with my kid having a good Square Meal to get her through the day. And you know what he said? He said, one square meal wouldn't be bad, Angie, but that kid's meals are hexagonal - and there ain't just one of them. That kid, he says, that kid eats her burger inside the store, steps into the revolving door, keeps on turning when everyone else walks onto the street - and comes right back inside like it's her first meal of the day. It's like that Groundhog Day movie, he says, only your Beth's not exactly Andie MacDowell.

Well, I gotta say I thought that was pretty unfair. For one thing, everyone knows Beth's way too big to use the revolving door at McDonalds. She uses the double doors - and the one time when they was broke, she had to go out back and they winched her down through the delivery chute.

So of course the doc tells the child services people that we've got a problem, just like he did when Nathan kept turning up at school with all the bruises just cos Bob had whopped him one for being cheeky. Anyways we had all the social workers and psychotrists and child pedophiles round again asking lots of questions and getting Beth to draw pictures. It's all going just fine until some dumb-ass with a beard pipes up and asks her about her 'self-image'. What kinda question is that to ask my kid? Whadda they expect her self-image to be - she's a frickin fattie!

Tears all round, of course, and now we've gotta start seeing the shrink all regular and make sure Beth does some exercise. And apparently, fork to mouth don't count. Sheesh.