“I’m relaxing with a little piece of stale bread,” says she.
[Copped on the fly (and from the hip) using this time-tested photojournalistic technique.]
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Unfettered by adult nices and norms children can eat the most amazing things. Stale bread reminds me of green toast.
‘Whats that you’re eating?’
‘Green toast from under cooker’.
Not my child, nor cooker I hasten to add. Probably makes up for all the times that dead-cert-favourites become poisonous don’t-like-thats.
Yegods, green toast.
Our son crawls around under the table foraging for and munching up what he dropped. If I wasn’t so nostalgic for my dearly departed dog (whose job it was to do that very same thing), I’d stop the little guy. Instead I just look at him and sigh.