Aaaaand my daughter ate a crayon.

I look up from the table. Bebe bounds towards me, Buddha belly first, emanating tubby tummy joy.

“Heeyy!”

“Ima!”

“Hey!”

“Cracker.” She’s pointing to her mouth which is covered in…

“What? What is that? There’s no crackers here…”

It looks like chocolate. “Did you go into my special cabinet?” I ask her, with a suspicion that foreshadows ten years from now.

Together we glance at the cabinet and then turn back to each other.

“Nooooo…” Her head shakes.

“So what is…” The floor is littered with crayons.

I look back at Bebe, her mouth open wide. She’s pointing inside.

“Did you…?!” I take a chunky chocolate crumb from her cheek and glide it on a scrap of paper.

“Did you eat a crayon?! My girl ate a crayon!” I started to nu nu nu her but, what the hell. I laughed and hugged her and laughed some more while she kept her mouth open wide, crayola bits in her teeth, the corners of her lips turned up for a smile.

 

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