Throughout dinner, Riley focuses intently on her pizza, smacking her lips and making little mm-mmm! sounds after every bite to let us know how much she’s enjoying it. Normally when she does that at the table, I tell her to knock it off and just eat, but it’s obvious she’s putting on a show for Derek. “I love pizza so much,” she announces, diving into her second piece.
Derek holds out his slice, which threatens to buckle beneath the amount of toppings on it. “Want to try ours?” he asks. “It’s yummy.”
Riley wrinkles her nose. “Ew, no!”
“You like pineapples,” I point out.
“Not on pizza, Daddy!” she cries. “That’s just gross!”
Derek looks over at me, grinning. “Someone else once thought so, too, but I managed to change his mind.”
“Well, I’m not eating it,” Riley says. “Not ever.”
For al
