At least it wasn't Yellow

This morning, I took Sam to Kindermusik and then we ran by my office to pick up a few papers I needed to grade an a new DVD of Schoenberg's Moses und Aron that I'm watching this afternoon in preparation for a review (that's right, I spend my Friday afternoon watching obscure 20th century opera - what do you do, watch Maury?)

As we were coming out of my building, we encountered a snowbank, so Sam did what he always does - he made a withdrawal. By the time we got to the car, his feet and legs were covered in snow. As I was unlocking the door, I looked over and noticed that he was scraping the snow off his legs and eating it. "Yucky!" I proclaimed. "We don't eat snow off the parking lot!" I scooped him up, brushed him off as best I could, and started strapping him into his car seat.

At that moment, Sam reached down, scraped the bits of snow clinging to the bottom of his shoe, and shoved them in his mouth, looking at me expectantly all the while. I guess a little snow/gravel/insect parts mixture never hurt anyone too much.