****Please do not read if you are a vegetarian or if talk of bones freaks you out.******* Somewhere in the Kasteel albums circa 1978 is a picture of my little sister gleefully gnawing on a bone. Greasy face. Crazy hair. Chubby cheeks. There she was at about age one, perched in her high chair having the time of her life.

Through the years, many bones have been claimed by Kelly at the table. She may be a trendy dresser. She may be a doctor. She may have traveled to many different locations in this world. But she is not so sophisticated as to turn down a good bone.

Last weekend we all sat down to a glorious feast around my parents' table. Sweet potatoes. Creamed shrimp sauce. Yellow potatoes. Asparagus. Prime rib....with two bones. My mum is a confessed bone lover too so she got one of the them, and Kelly, of course, pounced on the second.

When my mum laid hers down, Kelly told her she had done an insufficient job and told her to hand it over. After giving it a going over, she thought she would give Quinn a shot at it too.

Quinn took to it like a duck to water. Here she is watching her mummy carefully.

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Then they each went at it.

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Then, by George, she went after it like a girl on a mission.

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She pretended to give her mummy another taste but then she'd take it right back.

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Man, we laughed around the table. We quickly identified that this was a three generation bone. We are Dutch, but that does seem to be terribly thrifty, doesn't it?

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I must say, Quinn wasn't too eager to share at the end, but that's a lesson for another day. For this day, she learned how to dig into a really good treat.

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I never quite saw that bone make it to the garbage. I wouldn't be surprised it my sister wrapped it up and took it home for the dog.

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