#38

So Isaac is almost 3.

Three is an age of exactitude. It's the age where your child really starts acting like a 90 year old aristocrat with dementia. They want things done in a certain way, for reasons inscrutable to the rest of society, and god help you if you put the peanut butter on the wrong side of the bread.

Yesterday, Isaac was indulging in his latest favorite thing, boiled eggs. Last week he liked the whole egg. This week he only likes the white part, next week he will most likely shun the white for the yolk, and by June he will reject eggs all together (just in time for my chickens to arrive, for those of you who follow my other posts...).

Having been warned by rebecca that Isaac is no longer into the yolk, I peel an egg for him and start to open up the white to extract the hated center. Isaac starts screaming like I'm cutting off his arm.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

! DON'T BREAK IT!!!!!!

I drop the egg and step away, heart racing a bit.

"Whoah, buddy. Don't you want me to take out the yolk?"

"Yeah, but don't break the egg."

"Ummm...I kind of have to break it to get the yolk out."

"NOOOOOOOO!!! Dont break it!!"

"Okay, man, here. You deal with it." I give him the whole egg, and he eats away at the white until the poisonous yolk is exposed, then he hands it to me, and I extract the yolk. He happily gobbles the rest. Crisis averted.

"Daddy, I want a nudder one!"

I get one out of the fridge and peel it.

"I want you to take the yolk out."

Hmmmm. Sticky situation....

"Isaac, I have to break the white part to get it out. Is that okay?"

(pause)

"yeah."

I run a knife aroud the white, split the egg open, and take out the yolk. Isaac doesn't scream but he looks a little worried. I hand him both halves of the egg. He looks at the for a long time, and then thrusts them back at me.

"I need you to put it back together."