Max and Miles who, to Me, Will Always be Secretly Named "Gus"

The blog about Max and his little brother, Miles. Stunningly cute boys and future leaders of the rebel forces.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Warning: Cute Kid Story Ahead

This cute kid story features the confluence of two things: First, the world's smartest two-year old and, second, the first officially nice day of this "spring" we've had here. We're talkin' "Lounge-around-and-grill-with-a-beer" weather, rather than "dash-home-before-the-sun-sets-and-it-gets-cold-again-but-let's-grill-anyway" weather.

As usual, Max was in the back yard, moving dirt around, commenting on the grass (status: crappy)and seeing bugs where, really, there were none. We weren't grilling but our neighbor, Nick, was. Nick sat near his grill in his yard while Max and I sat on the back stoop, eating wild rice.

Suddenly, Max got up, walked down the stairs with his little bowl of wild rice and dumped it into a little toy grill that his great grandmother got him last summer. For the most part this wee barbie has served as a dirt receptacle lately, though, Max has been pretending that the large rocks he drops in there are steaks. Going so far as to try to bite the rock. Like his Dad, he likes 'em rare, baby.

So, now, I guess, he's going to cook his rice. That's fine. More edible than the rocks, right? He dumps the rice in the grill and then be-bops his way over to the garage where he begins to implore his sun-lit and half-a-beer'ed Dad to open the garage door. I'm not budging, but the door is only stuck shut, not latched, so once Max leans his back into it, the door swings open and he plops down onto his butt. He sits there for a second with that look of stunned surprise that says, "Holy crap! I got he door open. I don't know how. But it's open and I fell on my ass and I still look good!" He jumps up and disappears into the shadows of the garage.

Now I figure I'm going to have to get up 'cause, you know, he could probably hurt him self in there. But I'm hearing this funny, heavy rustling from the garage that doesn't sound too dangerous. I sit there to see where this is going.

Into the beautiful day, with a big, stupid grin and a grunt, appears the boy dragging last Fall's, nearly empty, bag of Kingsford Charcoal up the sidewalk towards his grill and the rice, waiting to be cooked. Nick about fell out of chair, he was laughing so hard.

This has gone about has far as I'm willing to go and I know Mom won't be happy if she sees Max looking like a chimney sweep. I agree to allow him one briquette with which to "cook" his rice. The next ten minutes were spent trying to convince Max not to eat the freaking briquette.

Like I said: beautiful days and smart kids.

Bonus Mega Cute
: I probably blocked this out to protect my brain and yours. But, hey, brains. Who needs 'em? So, Max comes out of the garage, dragging his bag of Kingsford and I ask him, "Max! Why are you bringing out the charcoal?"

"'Cause! Cooking!"


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