So, I was cleaning out my closet today and ran across a bag of Easter candy that I forgot to put in the kids’ baskets. I had bought each of them a box of Peeps — you know, those horrible, sugary, marshmallow chicks in unnatural assorted colors?
As I handed each of the kids one, Cody said, “Are these babies?” I told him they’re baby chicks. He said, “Well, I’m not going to eat them. They’re babies and I love babies. I don’t want to eat them, I just want to love them.”
There is an open box of blue Peeps next to me, and the reason I know that it’s Cody’s box is because the chicks are uneaten.
Except for the one on the very end whose head has been bitten off.
Either he couldn’t resist having a taste (though this is the kid who consistently takes the red gummy bears out of the bag and refuses to eat them because they’re his “friends”) or, more likely, Logan took a chomp, despite Cody’s urging him not to eat the poor little baby chicks. (I put a damper on that right away. Just because Cody doesn’t want to eat his candy/friends doesn’t mean Logan should feel bad for eating his.)
“I don’t want to eat them, I just want to love them,” he told me again.
Priceless.
