Earlier today, I was playing "Pretty, Pretty Princess" on the floor with Gracie (I was TOTALLY winning...I had two earrings, a necklace and a ring. She only had two necklaces) when William walked into the room, chewing.
"What is William eating?" I called. "He's eating something?" was the response. "Yeah," I said. "He just walked in here chewing." "What does he have?" "Don't know," I said, inspecting his empty mouth. "It's gone now."
No worries. It was just what we've come to call Floor d'Oeuvres.
While Grace was pretty good at finding them in her younger days, William is a master. Like a shark that can detect a single drop of blood within the vast ocean, this kid can hear a Cheerio hit the floor from clear across the house. He immediately drops what he's doing and zooms towards the wayward treat as quickly as his short, stubby legs will carry him.
For example, he and his mother were at the beach earlier in the week. At one point, she noticed that he was carrying around a warm, oily, sand-covered corner of cheese that he had apparently found. I mean, he heard CHEESE hit SAND. This kid's got a career in international espionage ahead of him.
So what happened to it? "I don't know what ended up happening to the cheese," my wife said. So if the whole spying thing doesn't work out, he'll at least be able to win a few bar bets.