On Halloween, Jack ate a blue lollipop and turned his face a ghastly shade of boo-berry.
He doesn't forget a thing, this kid.
He has started asking for lollipops for breakfast.
"Jack, we don't have lollipops for breakfast."
He asks for lollipops after school.
"Jack, we're about to eat dinner. You can have a lollipop for dessert."
The other night, I promised him that he could have a lollipop of he ate a good amount of his dinner, which happened to be at a local tavern type of place near us that we probably won't return to. (Despite the fact that they have truffle fries and you can get fried eggs on lots of things, it was not the decadent culinary escape we had hoped.)
Well, it wasn't to us, anyway. As negotiated, Jack ate enough of his dinner that he was allowed to have a lollipop.
Currently, the enjoyment of a lollipop involves three very important stages.
Stage 1: Pose for the picture.
Stage 2: Contemplate the lollipop.
Stage 3: We've waited long enough! Go go go!
On the way to the car after, we had this conversation:
"Jack, did you have fun at dinner?"
"What was your favorite part?"
"Um, my lollipop."
"I'm sure it was. Pretty good, huh?"
Hope you can contemplate something delicious today.