In the early morning, dim, hazy light spilled across the dining table. The soft clink of glass against silverware sounded especially pleasant, and the tablecloth draped smoothly over the edge. Alfred set down the final dish. Bruce, seated at the head of the table, nodded to him, and the old butler turned and left with a gratified look.
Bruce sat at the head of the long dining table, with Selene across from him. Dick sat to Selene's right, and Aisha beside Dick. On the surface, it was a harmonious breakfast scene for a family of four. But after Bruce tapped his fork against his goblet to signal that breakfast had begun, things once again descended into chaos.
Most children had a very strange habit: outside mealtimes, they put absolutely everything into their mouths, but when it was actually time to eat, they acted as though they had a vendetta against food and refused to take even one bite.
Fortunately, Aisha had always had an excellent appetite—or perhaps an appetite that was a little too excellent. At any time and in any place, she liked putting everything into her mouth.
With a crunch, a chunk vanished from the plate holding the sandwiches. Dick, who had been drinking water, sprayed it out and coughed twice from choking. He hurriedly turned around and patted Aisha on the back, trying to make her spit out the porcelain shards.
Dick hurriedly wiped his mouth with a napkin, then gestured as he explained, "No, Aisha, that isn't part of the sandwich! That's the plate! It's tableware, understand? You can't eat it... Wait! Put that cup down!"
With another crunch, Aisha bit a crack into the cup as well. The milk inside spilled all over her. Dick covered his eyes with one hand, then took a towel