Broken or Fixed

It didn't bug me when my little ones took all afternoon to eat lunch because if they were confined to the table, so were their messes.  I could clean something and it would stay tidy for a whole hour.  Hunneypunkin, however, was annoyed that lunch was still being had when he got home from work for supper, and demanded to know why lunch took so long every day.
So I spied to learn what nonsense was afoot at lunchtime, and that's how I learned to play "Broken or fixed".  When no one was looking, Lefty would tear his sandwich in half, press the halves together, then hold it up and ask, "Is my sandwich broken or fixed?"  The Precious and the sisters would cast their votes as to whether the bread was torn or whole, and Lefty would pull the two halves apart to show who was right.
Then Angel Doll would hold up a baby carrot with both hands and ask, "Broken or fixed," wait for responses, and then let go of the carrot with one hand to prove that the carrot was whole.
Pixie would repeat the act with a cheese stick, scolding anyone who cheated by trying to lean in for a closer look, and The Precious would take a turn with his sandwich.
The game could get rather complex, what with trying to break apart a carrot without anyone else seeing, or pretending to tear a cheese stick in half without actually doing it, or wrapping one's entire body around the plate to hide the breaking--or not--of the food.
The "Broken or fixed" game was forgotten as the People reached double-digit birthdays.  Adolescent appetites replaced the childhood necessity of playing with one's food.  Recently, however, someone remembered the game, and for a short time it was revived.  The only thing more entertaining than watching Jeremy Renner interviews on Youtube, is watching my teenagers playing "Broken or fixed" with their lunches.