This one was just told to me: When I was in my crawling/explore-the-world stage, I climbed onto our long dining room table during a dinner party. The guests watched, amused, as I crawled around the serving dishes. I spotted the hot mustard pot, which had an inviting little spoon, just my size. My audience watched as I dug in to what I obviously thought was pudding, putting a heaping spoonful into my mouth. I am sure the look on my face expressed my profound unhappiness. I hope it delighted the guests. I assume mom did something to put me out of my misery.

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