No, It Isn’t Chocolate Cake

We had a lovely few days down at my mom’s house in the Hood Canal area.  One of those fun little towns that has a post office, general store, and zip code, and that’s IT, literally.  It isn’t too far from where I grew up, but feels totally different.  The trees, the birds, the bugs, even the dirt is all just a bit different.  So I don’t get this nostalgic feeling of remembering my childhood when I go there, but I do feel like I’m building new wonderful fun memories.  I have mixed feelings about this one.

I stopped mid-sentence while talking with my mom when I realized my son had been way too quiet for way too long.

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This isn’t chocolate cake crumbs.  It looks like it, but isn’t.  Unfortunately.

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What’s worse is that he didn’t even make a face, like it was completely gross that he was eating dirt.  He didn’t even spit it out, I had to scoop it out with my finger.

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He sure was awfully cute, though.

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