I love black olives. A lot. I’ve loved them from a very early age. Here, I’ll show you.
That’s me. My mom bought a pizza and she thought it’d be cute to take a photo of little me with a giant pizza in front of me. When she went to the other room to fetch the camera, she came back to see me with a fist full of black olives that I had picked from the pizza. Then she noticed that I still had those in my hand because I’d already stuffed as many of them in my mouth as I could fit. They were delicious.
Again, I love my mom’s priorities. Baby stuffing face with a new food – what should you do? Be wary of a choking hazard? No. Get camera and take lots of photos? Yes. Same rules apply when your toddler is drunk on Tylenol. (Read about priorities and drunkenness here.)
What’s with all the old photos lately? I guess I’m feeling nostalgic. Think anyone would notice if I decided to be a toddler again? I don’t think so, either.
I have to go because I suddenly have a craving for a pizza.