It fell out of the back of Rosebud’s kitchen-table booster seat.
It hit the floor not as a splat, but as something hard. I picked it up and looked at it, then put it on a white piece of paper and got out my camera phone.
Wife knows what’s up when I get that out.
“Oh, don’t write about that,” Wife said. “Sometimes, people come to our house and eat.”
Click.
Whatever it used to be, it had dried up after someone had stuck it in the plastic flap-opening built into the back of the booster seat for no apparent useful reason. Maybe, it used to be green, because there was a green tinge around the edge. Or maybe it became green along the way.
“Well, if they have kids and come to our house to eat, they won’t be surprised,” I said. “But OK, I won’t write about it.”
Besides, it’s not Wife’s job to periodically clean out the plastic flap-opening that was built into the back of the booster seat for no apparent reason. We haven’t actually doled that task out as a chore.
Besides plus, the next time someone comes over, it’s not like we’re going to serve them the shriveled up hardened green sliver for dinner. (We’d serve them the usual: a Trader Joe’s cereal bar and a glass of orange juice.)
“Oh, whatever, write about it, I don’t care.”
Any guesses what it is? Rather, what it was?
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