The Crock Stops Here.

This afternoon, around 4:00 p.m. (or 1600 as we say in the industry), Hunter delivered some disturbing news. I can't bring myself to type it out, so screenshots will have to suffice.

And it goes a little somethin' like this.

I had heard of this diet, of course, because I have heard of all diets. I'm pretty diet-obsessed like that. So I went with my first instinct, which was to try to walk away from my second responsibility as a parent: to keep my child fed (first is to keep him safe. I think. I'm foggy on the order).

Anyway, he didn't buy it, obviously, so my next step was resignation. He closed in for the kill.

I tried to diffuse and distract with bribery.

Long story short, it didn't work, and he said that since he was working and had no time to wait, he would grab his own dinner. I'm off the hook for now. But what this all means is, there may not be a Crockin', Week Four.