Toast!

My son is a genius.

No, really, I have proof this time.

Yesterday morning, when we came downstairs, I asked if he wanted some breakfast.  He made a funny noise that started and ended with T, and had a raspberry in the middle, somehow.  Luckily, I am well-trained in Toddlerese, and I know that this translates to, "Toast".

As I was getting the bread, Miles was busy climbing onto a chair that I had pushed into the corner of the kitchen - conveniently enough, directly in front of our toaster oven.  He pulled the toaster oven toward him, and opened the door.  I gave him a piece of bread, and he laid it gently in the center of the rack, closed the toaster, and tried to turn the knob.  Unfortunately, it's a little awkward, so he couldn't quite manage.  Ever the genius, however, he simply looked at me and signed, "help, please" and pointed at it.  I turned the knob, and he watched as the heating element grew more and more orange, and said, "Ha!" (Translation: "Hot!")

In an effort to distract him from trying to open the toaster oven door too soon, I asked if he wanted milk.  My distraction worked, and he held the lid to his cup and the milk carton while I poured, then placed each lid on its proper container.  By the time I had put the milk away, the toaster dinged.  Miles pointed, then jerked his hand back and said, "Ha! Osh!" [Translation: "Hot! Ouch!" - the exact words I use when warning him away from the stove while I'm cooking.]

I pulled the 'ha' toast out and put it on a plate, then helped Miles down from his perch.  He immediately began grunting and pointing at the plate.  "Do you want to carry it?" I asked, figuring that at worst, he'd be picking up a solid piece of toast from the un-vacuumed carpet and eating it anyway.  No big.*  (I promise,  it wasn't hot by the time I handed it to him.  I'm not that Bad of a Mommy).

Surprisingly, he carried the toast-laden plate all the way to the table without spilling it.  He sat it down, held the toast triumphantly over his head, and then savagely tore into it, with all the pride of a chef eating his first successfully produced meal.  A few short moments later, he was asking to help with seconds.  Which he also consumed with vigor.

He also had toast for lunch.  And dinner.  And he made a piece for Daddy when he got home from work.  I think toast is going to be very popular around here for the next few days. :)

*Bad mommy, remember?