This morning, I put Kato on the counter as I often do. It is a helpful height for getting him dressed, putting on his shoes, etc. This morning, after placing him there, I was distracted by something or another. Alden needed me to locate Baby Hippo, I believe. Urgently. And so I followed her to her room, located Baby Hippo (in a bin beneath the bed), and returned to help Kato get dressed.

Had he pined for me in my absence? He had not. In fact, he had busied himself in the act of preparing breakfast.

Apparently, none of the first three pieces of bread he tried were good enough, so he was well into his fourth by the time I found him. Mind you, the search for Baby Hippo was not a long one. Kato’s domination of the potato bread had unfolded in less than a minute.

I tried to summon my inner father, to turn this moment into a teachable one. But there was something about the sight of him sitting there half dressed and earnestly searching for the best piece of bread in the bag that made me wonder if, perhaps, it was I who had something to learn from him.

As I stood there searching for words, he extended his arm and said, with utter sincerity and not a hint of guile, “Here you go, Papa.”

I took the bread. I took a bite. And it was good.

I’m pretty sure the lesson here is to not leave your two-year-old on the counter when you’re not in the room, but instead, I have every incentive to do it again.