Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life
My life is, to me, ripe with frequent challenges, occasional successes, spontaneous laughter, adequate tears, and enough *life* to last me a lifetime. To you, however, it surely seems most pedestrian. And therefore, I recycle the name I used previously and call this my Notebooks of Daily Life. Daily, because it's everyday in nature, ordinary. These conglomeration of events that are my life are of interest to me because I live it, perhaps mildly so to those who are touched by it, and could only be of perverse, morbid curiosity to anyone else. Yet, I offer them here nonetheless. Make of them what you will, and perhaps you can learn from my mistakes.
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Sunday, August 28, 2005
They seemed normal enough, this family at Costco. The little girl was probably about six or seven; the parents appeared to be in their early thirties. They didn't look like idiots. At least, they didn't until they got to the coffee aisle.
The father reached out to the stacked bags of coffee, plucked out a stray bean, and held it up for his daughter to see. "This is what you loved to suck on when you were a baby."
I don't know how much caffeine would be absorbed by a baby sucking on a coffee bean, but I am quite sure any amount is a bad idea.
Even if it weren't for the caffeine, the chance of an infant choking on something as hard and as small as a coffee bean is so high as to be a near certainty. I'm surprised the kid survived infancy with parents like that. Unfortunately, I suspect there are all too many parents like this out there.