At Breakfast

Frannie and I were munching our oatmeal with extra raisins.

“Look!” she said. “A bug! A bug!” A small fly was sitting on the wall above the table.

“Yep, a fly,” I said.

“He’s looking for food,” she told me.

“Really? What kind of food?”

“Um, fly food.” She looked at him for a minute while she chewed. “I need more oatmeal!”

“You still have half a bowlful,” I said.

The fly moved an inch to the left.

“That fly is happy!” she yelled.

“How can you tell?”

“He’s smiling!”

Sometimes I feel like I’m missing something in the world. I never see smiling flies anymore. The world just isn’t the same after puberty.

6 thoughts on “At Breakfast

  1. Just remember that incidents like this are always bookended by screaming and kicking. I need a mouthguard and Mr. Husband needs a cup.

  2. Yeah, I’m with Jimbo. Kids are pretty much disgusting, but that’s some cute shit.

    I can’t believe I’m breaking my vow not to post anywhere on the internet to say that.

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