After counting four flies in the room, I decided it was time to go on the hunt. Jar in hand, I set out to capture them to feed the frog. As I was stalking a particularly juicy looking blue bottle fly, Bear interrupted:Mom, that part where the wing connects to the fly is pretty yucky, but the rest of it is actually pretty good."Uh." I started. "Hmmm," I went on. "Ahh," I finally concluded.
Because just how do you respond to a statement like that? Obviously, the boy has eaten a fly. Not only eaten a fly, but savored it bit by bit and appreciated the fine subtleties of its various parts.
But the boy won't touch mashed potatoes. Maybe I should season them with flies next time.
