Zane and I picked up corn at the grocery store on Saturday morning. The corn was meant for Sunday’s Mother day dinner. “Want corn?” he said in the shopping cart. “Want corn?” he said at lunch. “Want corn?” he said at Saturday’s dinner pointing at the husks on the counter, this despite having a serving of loose corn and peas in front of him. I think the corn finally got obscured enough by Sunday that he was pleasantly surprised when it finally was served with dinner. So much so that when I gave him his own corn cob he walked right over to the table, crawled up on his chair and started on it without further prompting.
Half way through the meal he exclaimed, “Want Mommy’s corn?” pointing to her half eaten cob, his cob mostly consumed except for splotchy patches of whole kernels. Faith swapped and he set to work. Buoyed by successful negotiation he only took a half dozen bites before turning to me, “Want daddy’s corn?”
p.s. looks like we missed a fingernail
p.p.s. on Saturday Zane helped me work on the dishwasher. Here’s a short little video of him working the socket wrench