I have a bunch of food allergies, etc, that her pediatrician advised we keep her away from until she’s three, then we can introduce them incrementally. First she walked up holding one of Grandma’s granola bars, I read the ingredients and had to tell her no. Then she went back to the pantry, where she can now reach to open the door, and returned with a pack of microwave popcorn.
Toots (with big inquiring grin): cannI haf pahtorn?
Mom (unwraps plastic but doesn’t move to make it just yet because I was in the middle of something else): Sure.
Next thing I heard from the kitchen is the sound of the stool scooting across the floor, then the door of the microwave opening, then closing, then beeping on and starting.
I darted into the the kitchen with a big pat on Grandma’s arm on the way, as both of us grinned at each other. There she was sitting in front of the microwave, proudly demonstrating her patiently waiting dance on the stool while watching the bag puff up and rotate. When it started popping, she patted out a little beat on the countertop along with the popcorn.
Toots (turns at the sound of my footsteps entering the room) Yook Mommy, I makin pahtorn!