My little thief

Night before last, we went to California Pizza Kitchen for supper. The boys split a large cheese pizza, Amelia got mac and cheese, and Grayson and I each got pizzas. (And that ends possibly the most mundane intro to a blog post ever. Apologies.)

While I was in the middle of eating my spinach-and-artichoke pizza, Amelia reached over and swiped a piece off of my plate!

I don't mean she, like, timidly reached over, glanced up at me to see if I'd mind, and gently took it. I mean GIRLFRIEND SNATCHED IT IN A HOT SECOND.

And then stuck it straight in her mouth.

This is my child whose food I still cut up into tiny little pieces. My child who has never had either spinach or artichoke, as far as I know. (Well, maybe spinach, at school, but I doubt artichoke.)

Didn't matter. She went at that pizza like a woman on a mission. Ripped it apart with those six teeth she rocks.

She kept looking around at the diners near us, I think to see if they were watching her mastery in all its glory. I have to admit, it was impressive.

Hard to get mad at somebody for stealing your pizza when she looks like that.