I hear him running across the kitchen floor. Curious, I head upstairs a few minutes later to find the baking cabinet doors open but no Ben.
I climb the stairs to his room. He’s sitting on his bed with two hands buried in the sugar bag and chocolate chip goop smeared across this face.
He’s quick, I’ll give him that.
“Ben, what are you doing?!”
“Having a snack!”
“Right. We don’t usually eat raw sugar for snacks.” I take the bag away.
“Humph! Well save it for me for next time. I might want it later!”
You know, because you never know when you’ll need to have a few spoonfuls of pure sugar...
Like he doesn’t have enough energy.
On the plus side, I never worry about this kid not getting enough exercise. He is a whirling dervish of a toddler - always moving, always running.
Or in this case: tripping in 3..2...1
