I had a striking realization when I went into the kitchen today.

Little looks at the fridge (where his food is kept) with complete and total reverence. He sits. He waits. He looks at it longingly. He looks at it expectantly, eagerly, waiting for it to open. He looks at me, then it, then me, then it, in the most goal-directed way possible (given the absence of opposable thumbs), willing the door to open. (We call that initiating joint attention in child development.) He licks his lips in eager anticipation of the fruits of the fridge to come forth. Behold, the magic of the fridge!

The refrigerator is Little’s God.


(I mean no sacrilege. Although I think that I have reverence for my God, I can only hope that I respect the dominion of my God as much as Little respects the fridge.)

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