The three of us sat gathered in a booth, each focused intently on the meals before us. Alexis was worshiping at the church of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich (which was made wrong, I'll have you know), breaking only occasionally to suck down a little yogurt from a tube. It was a meal that she had selected only after careful consideration of the entire menu.

As she happily chewed on her food, Alexis began to scope out the food choices Mr. Husband and I had made. She eyed my tomato soup, determined that it was not a security risk, and continued on. She examined Mr. Husband's sandwich, found it to be lacking, and continued on.

Then she spotted it.

Mr. Husband's bag of potato chips.

Alexis had been given her choice of sides, and potato chips were certainly a part of the menu presentation. She chose yogurt instead, and yet, she found herself wanting a chip or two. Or ten.

She looked at Mr. Husband.

She looked at the chips.

She looked at Mr. Husband.

She looked at the chips.

She looked at me.

She looked at the chips.

At last, she decided on a strategy. I knew she was thinking long and hard about those potato chips, so I was just waiting for her to shove her grubby little hands straight into the bag. Instead, she pasted on her best smile, gazed up at her Daddy, and mustered every ounce of sweet she could find as she said, "Daddy, I like to share with you."

Now that is how you steal food off of a man's plate.

I fear for the kid's future spouse-type person.