Happy Puffs for Breakfast

[No, not those aging hippie happy puffs.  This is a responsible grown-up blog!]

This little piggy ate gluten-free sweet potato Happy Puffs for breakfast.

By the time I got my camera, Mr. Short Stack had plucked all the crisp and cheerful puffs off the highchair tray and popped them into his mouth.  He was equally adept at grasping tiny sliding bits of banana and scrambs of scrambled egg.

And so, I will only show his happy piggy toes. Swish- swashed with the dreaded washcloth, de-crumbed and de-goobed, my grandson hit the floor running as soon as released from the highchair.  Organic Os seem to pack as much "Go Power" as the Cheerio finger food of previous toddler generations.

This little pig went to market;
This little pig stayed home;
This little pig had roast beef;
This little pig had none;
This little pig cried,
"Wee, wee, wee," all the way home.

I did not cry "Wee, wee, wee," on the way home. I was very grateful just to have an airplane departing without maintenance issues, delays, or gate changes. Annie Prouxl's Bird Cloud was easy reading that gradually became annoying. The skinny guy in the next seat was reading Jack London's sci fi tales.

This morning was another story altogether. I cried, "Wee, wee, wee," but still had to get up and go to work. Our new student, age three, is from France, but has been living in Germany, and mostly speaks Spanish. Oui, oui, oui.

This little piggy had coffee, black
This little piggy ate toast
This little piggy better get to market
or it's gonna be a long week of PB&J
Oy vey!

© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder