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Good housekeeping

Goldfish Yesterday I was puttering around in the kitchen while Charlie played on the floor.  I heard him exclaim in a tone of wonder and delight, "Cracker!"  When I'd finished what I was doing, I leaned casually over the counter to see what he meant.

Naturally, he meant an Annie's cheddar bunny — similar in whimsy, which is to say plenty, and in nutritional value, which is to say none, to a goldfish cracker.  He meant, of course, that he'd found one on the floor.

On the floor behind the garbage can.


By the time I saw him, he was already chewing it with the rhapsodic look of a true connoisseur.  Before I could weigh the pros and cons of reaching into his mouth and sweeping out the soggy fragments with a frantic finger, down his gullet it went.  I have almost managed to convince myself that the occasional...found snack...can only serve as an invigorating boost to his immune system.


Do you think I need to step up my housekeeping just a little?