Don’t trust a quiet house.
Just a little snippet of daily life. I’m not the cook in our family because my husband is amazing in the kitchen, so much so that I would rather stay in and enjoy his meals instead of eating out most any place. Yesterday my company had the day off, so I decided I would take Max to the grocery store around 4 in the afternoon to buy ingredients for a nice Italian dinner. Maxwell helped me carry in the baguette from the back patio into the house. I continued to put groceries away, and after about 10 seconds of having my back turned to him I realized it was too quiet, and then I heard a small rusting…
Plastic bag or no, this kid was eating that bread. I get the results from my National Geographic Genographic testing in another week or two, showing my family’s ancestory. I’m banking on at least some Italian being in the mix.
Mangia Maxwell, mangia! Molto bene!