Eagle Eye

Yesterday morning, before he had even changed out of his pajamas, Marty came into the kitchen, looked up, and said, "Can I have one of those?"

The average person looking at this picture might first think that he was asking for one of those Christmas candies, inexplicably being stored in a huge plastic tupperware container within reach of all short people in the house. That was not what he was after.

He also did not want any gatorade, a bottle of wine, a clove of garlic out of the wicker basket, a magazine to read, anything from the spice rack, a stack of small plastic tupperware, or a cookbook. Within all of the clutter in, on, and around that shelf, it took Marty only a split-second to spot what somehow has become a coveted treat in this house.

If you look very closely on top of the orange and red Big Book of Grilling on the second shelf, you will see a small blue and white box. Inside the box are nine snowman Peeps that we bought right before we left for Christmas and forgot to take with us.

For some reason, short words that describe treats, like Peeps and Dibs, are very hard for him to remember (while words like "educational" roll right off his tongue). When he tries to remember what those treats are called, he comes out with just about every one syllable word except the right one. But although he couldn't remember what they were called, he did remember that they were (to him) delicious, and he was willing to stand there and point until I took them down. I suppose I could have made him wait until he came up with the right name, but I did have other things to do yesterday, so in the end I got them down and let him see them.

(And yes, he did score a Peep while still in his pajamas, but in my defense I made him plow through a whole bowl of grapes first.)