So the Elder Nephlet was three whole years old yesterday, and there was much rejoicing.
The much rejoicing took the form of a Bob the Builder Birthday Extravaganza, the centerpiece of which was a massive devil's food cake with chocolate "dirt" icing and many pieces of yellow plastic earth moving machinery on the top. The Elder Nephlet could, at the age of 2, correctly identify between "mo-mo" and "track" (mower and tractor) and he's only gotten more precocious.
Having learned from last year, when the cake itself was somewhat lessened in presentation when the EN pulled the lovely plastic toys out of the icing along with a handful of cake, my sister pulled them off the cake and took them to wash them while the EN was sort-of distracted by the bounty of chocolate and the promise of presents after cake. I sat down with him to monitor cake-eating and have a chat. And, once the yellow toys were returned to the table, he looked at them very seriously, leaned over the table to me, and said conspiratorially:
I need some dirt.
Next Woodward or Bernstein, I'm telling you. I won't always be able to distract him from the scoop by telling him that he might mess up his presents if he has to open them with muddy hands.