Amaya

 Amaya's a girl who's thinks three meals ahead. Before breakfast, she's requesting dinner. At dinner, she's planning  lunch. At lunch, she's worried about breakfast. And snacks... snacks can cause a real migraine.

"Mom, what meat do we have in the freezer?" It's a question asked every morning while picking through her cereal.

"Why Amaya?" Is the common response, but I already know where the conversation is headed.

"I was thinking...maybe we can have spaghetti tonight?" Her most common request.

"Can we finish one meal before we plan the next?" I usually plead with frustration.

Amaya will nod her head, but the worried look on her face always says different.

"Have I ever forgot to feed you?" I try to remind her she's never gone without a meal.

For an incredibly picky child, she sure is worried that she won't get to eat. If it were up to her she would live on spaghetti, tuna, and avocados.

After breakfast, like clockwork, Rio will find me.

"Can we have spaghetti tonight?" Rio asks.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "You hate spaghetti. Remember?"

"Oh...well, Amaya told me to ask," he'll confess.

"Amaya!" I yell through the house. "Quit sending Rio to do your dirty work!"