This past weekend, my husband took our two boys to Champps for burgers without the bun because it was Passover and they couldn't eat the bread. Our younger son was, according to him, "STAAAARRRRVVVIIINGGG because there is nothing good to eat during Passover." So, they get to the restaurant and order their burgers and wait in anticipation. As soon as the food arrives, the boys (and their dad) dig into their cheeseburgers with bacon. (Hmm, they couldn't eat the bread because of Passover, but had no problem eating the burger with cheese AND bacon, which, if you know anything about the Jewish tradition of keeping kosher, is about as unkosher as you can get). After chewing his first bite, our younger develops a "I'm-not-feeling-so-hot" look on his face. His big brother asks him what's wrong.
"I don't know, I guess I just don't feel that hungry anymore," his little brother responds. "You know that if you burp, you can make room in your stomach so that you can eat more food," big brother explains. "Really? O.k., I will try that," his younger brother says with excitement. He then takes a huge gulp of his Sprite and pauses. At this moment, their waiter approaches the table. "How's it going," he asks. At that point, our 11-year-old son, who is not a very big guy, lets out a ginormous, table-vibrating burp that literally emerged from the bottom of his belly. "That was a good one," the waiter said with a smirk, and he, my husband and older son erupted with laughter. But our younger son was not laughing, and just as the waiter was about to leave their table, our son opened his mouth, seemingly to let out another, guttural, big guy burp. However, instead of a burp, he released a heaping pile of vomit onto his plate. "Not such a good one," the waiter said, trying not to gag himself. Needless to say, my three boys quickly left the restaurant and when they walked in the house, I saw our son's ghostly complexion, and my husband and older son just said, "Have we got a story for you!"
Beware of the Burp Method!
