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.


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


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.


He sure was awfully cute, though.

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