This morning as we were getting in the car to head out for the day, Miles became extremely grumpy and agitated. I asked him what was wrong, and he started pointing at the lawn. Specifically, he was pointing at a flower in the admittedly overgrown weeds/grass. Once I realized what he was asking for, I shrugged, said, “Sure, that the hell?” and plucked the flower from the ground, handing it to him. He immediately smiled wide and stopped complaining.
Ten or so minutes later we had arrived at daycare and I opened the door to get him out of his car seat. Something was missing. “Where’s your flower?” I asked, peering over the car seat to see if he had dropped it. All Miles did was shrug.
After I got him out of the car, I inspected the seat a little more closely. Maybe it had fallen to one side or gotten wedged in the cushion? My investigation yielded no results.
I looked at Miles. “Now Miles,” I said, “did you EAT the flower?” Miles was coy, choosing not to answer my question and instead trying to change the topic to birds.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 