Friday, November 23, 2012


Son #2 was sitting in his high chair eating Cheerios as I  unloaded the dishwasher the other day.  He savored each delicious bite with half closed eyelids and a look of pure joy on his face.  When he ran out of Cheerios.  He babbled.  "More."

I cheerfully walked over to the pantry and retrieved the bag of Cheerios.  Then, I poured a good sized portion onto his tray.  Son #2 beamed with excitement.  He popped a few Cheerios into his mouth and then swished both hands across his tray.  Cheerios flew across the tray from all directions onto the floor.  I patiently bent over to pick up the scattered cereal.  Then, I went back to the dishwasher.

As I continued to put dishes away, Son #2 inspected the Cheerios in front of him.  Sometimes, he placed a Cheerio into his mouth.  Then, he got a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  His tiny hands swished across his tray again and scattered Cheerios onto the floor.  I glanced over my shoulder and took in his handiwork.  I sighed and once again picked up the mess. 

Son #2 leaned over his high chair as I bent down to clean.  He giggled with glee and swished his tray with a vengeance.  I looked up in time to see a spray of Cheerios fly over my head.  This time I muttered to him and myself.  "What in the world."

Son #2 was not done with his fun yet.  As soon as he saw me bend over to gather the Cheerios, he chortled and sent the remaining pieces flying off his tray.  I stood straight up and said.  "That's it stinker!  You're all done."

Sadly, I said that a bit too late.

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