Rug fuzz --- it's what for dinner

For reasons known only to him, Samson just can't get enough wool rug fuzz into his mouth. Seriously. We had to buy a new living room rug because every time we turned around, he'd be sitting with a fistful of wispy, golden-hued threads curling around his tiny fingers and a wide open mouth. I'd love to work out some kind of code word with him to save me from continuously saying "Don't put that in your mouth; hey, buddy, don't put that in your mouth. Samson, please don't put that in your mouth."

Maybe it could be a cool word, like firefox or barracuda.

Of course, this could totally backfire, and he'd end up years later feeling strangely guilty whenever the 70s Heart classic comes on the radio.

I was, however, heartened by the results of an informal poll I took among some of our friends. The sample size is three, and I have no idea what the margin of error is. So what are their kids eating?

• 2 of 3: grass
• 2 of 3: cat or dog's food
  
• 3 of 3: floorios (the cheerios that miss the mouth only to be retrieved later; a favorite in our house too)
• 3 of 3: fingers, toes
  
• 1 of 3: own poo

So there it is. Maybe some enterprising family should push the reality trend one step further and create real counterparts to those awful Precious Moments figurines. Instead of those big headed, doe-eyed darlings, you could have statuette verite. I'd pay $9.95 for a little ceramic poo-nivore, wouldn't you?