Regular kids eat regular meals. Being a doctor, my kids eat meals peppered and spiced pungently and profusely. The bitterness, the sweetness. They're old enough to hear it all, now. But once in a while I hear, "Not at dinner dad." "Can't it wait." "Pulleeasse." Dinner is for sharing and mom's no help. She's a nurse. Oblivious, we don't even know we're doing it. OK, so maybe they didn't need to know about that lady I'd see every couple of years. She'd complain of navel discomfort. I'd take a...