"I've actually broke it a few times." Dean confessed, taking a seat. Normally he would have argued. His stomach quickly vetoed his brain. He held out his hand, knuckles wrapped so that he could shower without getting soap in the wounds. "Mary did what she could with it," which was actually good enough in his book.
He glanced back at his daughter. Nodding toward the plate. He didn't disagree with Peggy, she needed to eat.