The Arithematic of Food (or Two, Three, Four)

Tristan looked at me sideways out of the corner of his eye. He was standing on a chair at the kitchen counter. I'm not sure how long he had been standing there but he had a devilish grin on his face and both cheeks stuck out, puffy.

"Tristan," I said with my Mommy Early Warning Voice, "what's in your mouth?"

"Dum."

"Open your mouth."

He opened his mouth but I couldn't tell what was in there except that it was gum and a lot of it.

"How many pieces do you have in there?"

"Mmfmm."

"Seven??"

He grinned. "Eight."

"Eight??"

"Nine!"

"Nine??"

He stared at me thoughtfully for a second then added, "Fee. Foh." Another pause. "Two."

"Two?"

"Fee. FOH!" He nods.

I sighed. I hope there's a mathematician in there somewhere and not what I more likely suspect is a serious need for medicine to treat an OCD.

A moment later his brother came and took away the rest of the gum and Tristan went and got a bag of cookies and handed it to me. "Two, fee, foh...

"How about two," I offer generously.

"Yeah, twoooo. Fee, foh."

"No, just two."

"Fee, foh," he countered before walking away, munching his cookies.