He's a diet killer. He's a Weight Watchers nightmare. He would make that Jenny Craig person put on 15 pounds in a month, easy.
But it's all unraveled over the past 27 months. Now I'm packing on pounds and have more belly fat than the kid, who boasts a pretty good roll himself.
What happened?
I started eating Jack's food, that's what happened.
It began when he was just a baby, and I sampled his Gerber bananas. Now that he's a toddler, I'm pretty much hooked on something called Newman-O's, a really tasty Oreo-like cookie.
Wife: "Wow, he goes through these things fast."
Me: Unintelligible response because my mouth is full of a really tasty Oreo-like cookie.
Tiger Woods, look out. Your wife just had a baby. In two years, you're going to look like John Daly. If you're lucky.
It's unfair. It's pretty much unstoppable. And I've got scientific evidence to back it up.
According to a recent University of Iowa and University of Michigan Health System study, adults who live with children are likely to chow down more fat then adults who live without children. The researchers estimate the amount of extra fat a parent eats in a week equals that found in a frozen pepperoni pizza.
Gee, thanks kid.
Here's why: When you have kids, you have a tendency to buy kid-type food, such as macaroni and cheese, pizza, snacks and cookies - like those really tasty Oreo-like Newman-O's.
For me, the baby bananas were only the beginning. I noticed how Jack, then an infant, kind of liked them. So how could I resist?
I tried the baby peaches and the baby plums and the baby applesauce. It was all good.
The baby carrots? Actually, they were kind of gross.
That was the start of me heading down a slippery slope. Every time I fed Jack, I fed me. He would have milk with his minced sweet potatoes, I'd have wine with mine.
It didn't end when he graduated from baby food to normal food. It only got worse.
Now I have an even broader array of wonderful foods to sample, such as Gorilla Munch cereal and Sesame Street Crunchin' Crackers.
Temptation abounds. For one thing, it's almost impossible to make a toddler-sized portion. If you make the kid a grilled cheese sandwich, for instance, chances are he's going to take all of three bites.
And there the sandwich sits, all that gooey cheese oozing out. You know what happens next.
Eating at a restaurant is especially treacherous. Even if you order from the children's menu, you're going to get more food than the kid can ever eat. And we're talking - always - french fries.
Oh. Then there's his lunch. My wife makes it and you'd think she was packing it for Chargers linebacker Shawn Merriman.
Jack's typical lunch includes corn on the cob, a cheese stick, a cheese quesadilla, a soy burger, strawberries ...
Of course, he doesn't eat everything. Guess who does.
I won't even begin to describe what happens when we visit his grandmother, only to note that she's Italian.
The high-fat food menu my son and I share is going to expand, of course. Soon, Jack - thanks to the magic of TV advertising - will be urging us to buy all sorts of wonderful foods, such as popcorn, ice cream, sodas.
I'm going to have to say no, no, no - even if he throws a major-league tantrum.
Not for his sake.
Mine.
