Yesterday, more or less on a whim, I took the boys for French fries after school. I had asked the person who takes Barak home in the afternoon to drop him by Iyyar's playgroup, and so we were all together and out for a walk, right by the French fry store. Too much to resist.
We had our fries, and I supervised Barak's desire to feed Avtalyon: "Not the hard ones. The long soft ones, like these. He only needs one at a time. " Avtalyon managed to suck down a couple of fries, Barak had a blast, and Iyyar, who doesn't have much appetite these days, played with his and sang but didn't eat very much. At one point Barak asked me what was inside the fries, and I told him potato. When we were done, I asked Barak to put his garbage in the trash can, which he cooperatively started to do. Then he noticed the picture on the French fry bag--a very happy-looking potato, complete with face, arms and legs, leaning smugly against a large pile of fries.
"Who's that? Is that a potato?" he asked.
"Yup, that's a potato."
"What's he doing?"
"I think he's saying, look at all these yummy fries."
Pause. Then, softly and almost horror-struck,
"Were those his friends?"
I don't think I came up with a very convincing explanation for that one. Instead, I changed the subject. "Barak, do you know who really really likes French fries?"
"Grandma. Grandma really likes French fries."
"Does she eat them a lot?"
"I don't think she eats them a lot but when she gets them she really likes eating them."
"Does she gobble them all up?"
"Yup. Just like you do."
Solemnly, in an attempt to determine exactly how Grandma eats French fries: "Does she slurp them up like a vacuum cleaner?"
"No, she's politer than that. Grandma has very good manners."