What's For Dinner

"So how much did you eat?" I asked my poor brat as I held up a tablespoon 
of Pepto-Bismol.

He winkled his nose at me but open his mouth, swallowing the pink liquid. Then he grabbed the 

glass of water I handed to him and drank it down. 

"Won the Bratwurst eating contest." He showed me a blue ribbon for first 
place then he pulled a white paper out of his jeans pocket and counted out "25 

pretzels." I helped him pull off his jeans. 

"Four sodas," he told me as I help him to bed. "Two cotton candies, three Carmel apples, a couple of funnels cakes, a few corn dogs," he said he laid back, 
snuggling down into the warm blankets. 

"I know Brett snuck you beer," I told him.

He gave me a sheepish smile and held up two fingers. 

"Rest my love," I told him as I pulled the blanket and tucked him in, kissed his forehead and turn to leave. 

"Doc," He whispered as I got to the door.
 
"What Brat?" I asked.
 
"What's for dinner?"