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.