This morning, while spooning gooey, soft-boiled egg-guts into my maw, Patches (the 22-month-old) began begging for “nummy egg.” I gave him a bite or two, but this three-egg breakfast was MINE, and he’d already been fed, so I didn’t give him nearly as much as he wanted.

I drop my shells into a bowl as a finish scooping them out. There’s a good 2/3 of the eggshell still intact when I do. So picture those shells.

I finish my last egg, push the bowl away, and begin working on a little bit of sausage. I look up to see Patches desperately licking out the inside of one of the shells, and making slurping noises while he was doing it.

What can I say? My barbarism has been outdone by the animal instincts of my toddler son.