Recipe for Disaster

I make a "mean" chili, if I do say so myself.  Kai is my biggest fan.  Oh, to have a fan club!  And the things he does to manifest his veneration for my culinary greatness are just heart warming!  He gobbles up my chili when other children (who shall remain nameless....Owen) complain as if I were feeding them watery gruel and burned toast.  

But as with all fans, when they have an object of affection, they can sometimes go overboard with their displays of adoration.

Behold.....Kai and his beloved chili.  Proceed with caution...it isn't pretty.

He is working on his spoon skills.

He's taking it one step at a time.

The orange color of the chili really makes his blue eyes "pop."

The spices in the chili sting his baby blue's.

My "mean" chili stains tender skin.....for days.

In light of these disturbing turn of events, it will be a long while before I make chili again. There is too much involved with having to scrub down a slippery, perturbed, ox of a little man in a bathroom that was designed for one and that smells faintly of little boy pee, only to have him look like an orange pumpkin despite all my tedious washing.

We're sticking to rice. Or rather, it is sticking to us...whatever the case may be.