Is it Candy, or is it Candy?

My baby boy has a new favorite sign in recent weeks: "Candy." Before that it was "poop," so I guess I'm glad he finally moved on from his poop fixation and settled on candy. He knows mom keeps a stash (read: 4-pound bag from Wal-Mart) of Wint-O-Green Livesavers in the desk drawer (my pathetic attempt at quitting smoking) and his ritual is to come in when he sees me on the computer and ask ever so nicely for "candy." When I don't hand it over promptly enough for him, he sneaks around the chair and gets it himself since he knows I'm so engrossed in my listening and transcribing I won't even see him. Hell, John Cusack could walk in here and I still wouldn't notice and then have to be really pissed that I missed him.

Anyhow. I was having a mad craving for Chester's Puffcorns last night and sent hubby-man out to get me some in the middle of the night. The gas station didn't have any, so he brought me the next best thing: Cheetos. Boy-boy found the bag in the desk drawer and hauled it out, but he couldn't get it open so started poking me in the ribs to get my attention. I saw what he had and asked to have the bag back but he vehemently signed "NO." He pointed at it and then at me and then finally at himself. You get the picture. I open the bag and he starts signing "candy." Of course, Cheetos is candy!

Out of the mouths (or off the fingertips) of babes.