It started with trying to go outside. Oh, how Ulysses wanted to get out that screen door to the yard. I decided to distract with him the package that had just arrived via UPS from LaserMonks. I made a big show of opening the cardboard box, and I succeeded in attracting his interest. Whew.

Then I saw what was in the box. Dozens of styrofoam peanuts were stuffed around the ink cartridges. Looking exactly like snack treats. Uh-oh. I quickly brushed the peanuts into an empty Amazon.com box that was nearby on the floor and brought back the LaserMonks box. Not quick enough. Ulysses saw through my clumsy legerdemain and made for the Amazon.com box. I put it up on a counter, out of reach. Weeping.

Now I made a big show of stacking the ink cartridge boxes, incorporating them with building blocks, the most fun thing in the world, or so I tried to get across. It worked, but only for a minute. His attention was fixed on that Amazon.com box, with its snacky treasures, up on the counter. I figured, well, maybe it'll be OK for him to play with them. He ought to recognize styrofoam as not-food.

Wrong. Crunching on the Cheeto-like nuggets was his aim. (And he's never even seen a Cheeto.) I stood and strode over to the trash can and dumped them in. Wailing. Gnashing of (three) teeth.

So the kid deserves an authentic crunchy treat after all this taunting, I decided. I put a roll of Carr's Whole Wheat Biscuits in the Amazon.com box and brought it over to our play site. Happiness.

As he was contemplating the wonderful crackers, the waxed paper roll in one hand, a carefully nibbled biscuit in the other, a gutteral, two-part sound gurgled from his throat. If it weren't for the context, I never would have thought ... but, could it be? Was it an attempt at ... ?

The sound came again. And then again. And then, clear as a little crystal bell, from his little lips parted came a perfectly formed, all r's in place:

"Cracker."