Breakfast.

Little one, being a little stubborn.

“NO Gwumpa, no want food for breakfast.”

I offer a single bit of cereal. “Here, I got a new type (it really was a new type, I wasn’t lying).  Try this out and see if you like it.  You don’t have to eat the whole bowl.  I’m just testing to see if you like this new one.”

[nom]

I walk away.

The little one pipes up. “HEY GWUMPA I LIKE IT.  I can have more?  With milk in it?”

The gods of Madison Avenue were smiling.

I can see where surnames like ‘Smith’, ‘Baker’, and ‘Carpenter’ came about.

I’d asked the grandboy what is the name of his little helper and the answer was along the lines of,

“He, he, he don’t have a name.  O wait. Yes. His name is ‘SpidermanHelperGuyWhoLikesToWearABrownBeltButHesNotWearingItToday’.”