So today as I'm busy working, Charlie gets Henry up from his nap.
My little one wanders in to the room where I'm seated and I reach out and pat his head as he walks to the window, directly behind my chair. He stands there playing and babbling somewhat incoherently as an almost three-year-old is prone to do.
Suddenly, I hear him very audibly say "YUM!"
Although I'm distracted with work, an alarm goes off.
Yum? What yum?
I spin around to look at him and he greets me with a huge smile. Placing my hands out to pick him up I ask, "Henry? What are you doing?" and he laughs, "I EAT 'EM!"
"Eat 'em? What do you mean you eat 'em?!"
He nearly shouts at me, "Mommy! I eat da bee!"
*Suppress gag reflex.*
I doubt it was actually a bee. I suspect it was a dead fly, stuck in the window track. But that is precisely why Mommy will not be obliging Henry with his great big slobbery kisses for a few days.
Or at least until the image of my adorable toddler son macking down a dead winged insect fades.