Chris waddled over to the kitchen to smell what was cooking. His belly rumbled as he got closer to the delicious scents. He saw his son moving around, stirring something in the pot, checking something on the skillet.
He caught Chris out of the corner of his eye and smiled. "Breakfast shouldn't be long now, Dad. We’ll be ready in about ten minutes?"
"Right,” Chris said.
"Everything all right?" his son asked, half paying attention as he shepherded their breakfast through its critical final stages.
"Yes, just famished, is all," he answered. While he was distracted by this, he found himself moving toward the brownie container they kept in the kitchen and lifting its lid, reaching inside with his beefy hand and yanking out a couple of fudge brownies that he promptly shoved into his mouth, munching on them and even releasing a small grunt of satisfaction as some of the brownies caught in his whiskers.
"Dad, I thought we agreed you were going on a diet!" his son chided him in an accusatory tone as he looked over at him indulging in a pre-meal treat.
"I am; tomorrow," he distractedly answered, as if this was an argument they'd had countless times before, his mind more focusing on how scrumptious those brownies had been.
"And it's nearly breakfast time!" His son shot back.
"Appetizers," he drolly rebuffed, reaching up to brush what brownies he could find out of his mustache and beard hairs.
His son just sighed with some mixture of disgust and frustration and went back to the dinner that demanded her attention. Chris smiled, his mouth almost completely hidden behind his thick, luscious beard that covered his chubby cheeks.