If you were sitting and watching, you might have been asking yourself what the Hell we were thinking, letting her pick the tortilla chips off the floor, place them carefully in the plastic bowl (already home to several partially eaten black olives), meticulously pour water into the mix and begin to smoosh things together with a dilligence found only in Enron executives covering their collective behinds.
You might have even looked on like you were rubbernekcing while passing your favorite train-wreck as my daughter took several bites of this astonishing concoction. If you were watching her the entire time, of course, you would have missed the obvious thing to any and all parents everywhere: Mom and Dad had those few precious moments to place morsels of goodness into their faces and even move some into their atrophied gullets before having to wrestle with the 20-month-old Ninja again.
