It's What's for Dinner

Logan was darting in and out of the kitchen while I was trying to prepare dinner.  He was experiencing one of his usual bouts of whyarrhea and I had shifted into nod-and-smile mode. 

"What's duck duck goose?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied, completely distractedly.

He was not to be deterred.

"Dad, what's duck duuuck goose?" he insisted.

"Oh, it's a game," I said, re-reading the directions for a third time and attempting to measure out some ingredients.

"No.  What's this stuff," he asked, shaking a box in my face that he had just pulled off the counter.

The sound it was making brought me back to my senses.  Clearly, in four-year-old-world, there was a connection between this box and duck, duck goose.  In my world, the only connection to that box, was dinner.  I slowly focused in on the package. 

"Oh!  Couscous.  Honey, that says 'Couscous,' not duck, duck goose."

- 13 September 2012