Our Special Little Man

Gabe was sitting on the floor in the living room with his juice cup in hand, sort of half watching Yo Gabba Gabba (which we watch about four times a day because it's Norah's favorite show--she likes to dance to it), and I was helping Butts with some crackers and some little puffy snacks.

I looked over at Gabe and couldn't tell what he was doing, so I called him over. He was holding his hands half-cupped together, and sort of half-eating out of them (at least that's what it LOOKED like he was doing). I say "half" both of those times because he was also sort of NOT doing this. Or at least he was trying to act like he wasn't doing that, which was what got my attention. I figured he was eating something he wasn't supposed to have and was trying to be sneaky in his not-the-least-bit sneaky almost-three-year old way.

"What do you have in your hands?" I asked.

He held out his sort-of-cupped hands for me to see. There was about an adult man's hocking worth of spit in the palms of his hands. Apparently he had been, very silently, spitting into the palms of his hands for a few minutes.

"Eww," I said. "What are you doing with your spit?"

"I rub it in my eyes," he said. And, sure enough, he did. He put both hands up to his face and proceeded to rub the spit all over--but especially over his eyes.

Obviously, I asked him why, but the only response he gave was that he needed to get a wet-wipe out of the cabinet to wash his hands. Apparently spit is good enough for his face, but too dirty to stay on his hands for very long. Not surprisingly, he had no interest in doing any of this in front of the camera--which is too bad, it could have been our first new video since the computer crash last week, and it would have been a keeper.