Just out of reach

I could hear Noah behind me, working hard on something. I was cooking dinner, and as usual I wondered what he was getting into. Though I'm grateful that I no longer have to prop a baby bouncer on the kitchen table (breaking all the safety rules, of course), or plop Noah in an exersaucer with Baby Einstein to keep him company, I do get nervous from time to time when I hear a crash, boom or bang in the neighboring room as I prepare meals.

This time, the noise was right behind me. Sssccrrrraattcchhh! Ssswwiisshhh! I gave it 30 seconds and turned my back on the stove. Noah was positioning a large box of cookware in front of the refrigerator.

Perplexed, I said, "What are you doing, Buddy?" He ignored me (part of that selective toddler hearing).

Instead, he climbed up on top of the box and reached his chubby little hand as high as it would go.

Once more, "Noah, what are you doing?"

"It's just too high, Mama. I can't reach it."

"Reach what?"

"The chips."

Aha... the bag of Sunchips, just beyond his reach. Sometimes it's a bear to be little.