The Darndest Things: On Eating Dirt

I think that Q. is going to be more like E.,” I tell my grandfather proudly. “You know, he was able to play outside while I was making dinner starting at about fourteen months! I would watch him from the window, of course, but he was naturally so responsible. I never had to worry about him eating anything.”

And then I look at A. and point at her. “That one was a different story. When she was two she was still eating things. And choking! She had such a choking reflex for so long. She was never able to go outside unattended.”

I pause and look over at Q.

“But Q. is different, I think. She’s more like E.”

I look at Q. again. This time she’s holding a clod of dirt. She smiles at me…

…and takes a bite.