Recently, the baby has decided it wants a steak. I don't want a steak, so I assume it must be the parasite ordering room service. Little bugger really does take after P.
In a bizarre turn of events, I went to the store, approached the guy with the big knife and all the meat, and bought a couple of tenderloins (no hamburger would do!) My delighted husband prepared them and we all ate. For the first time in years, it wasn't awful.