Now, in the standard lexicon of things we've made up that don't really make sense, "donut holes" is a good one. They're not holes, they're the anti-holes, really. But @, well, he knows his stuff.
X bought @ some of those dangerously, delightfully evil mini Hostess donuts the other day. (Getting @ to eat is an ongoing challenge, so if he professes interest in something, it's all good.) @ wanted donuts for breakfast, so I put two in a bowl for him. (Wrong bowl. Apparently, you can't eat donuts out of a Scooby Doo bowl. A Thomas the Tank Engine bowl, yes. Scooby? It's just wrong. Who knew?!)
When he was finished he brought the bowl to me. "Mama, I don't like donut holes." I looked. He had carefully eaten around the circumference of the donut, leaving the center section around the actual hole intact. He did the same thing three days in a row. Systematically. Obviously, this kid does not like donut holes.
Ah, but I do! Yum.
I picked up @ after school the other day, buckled him into his seat, got in the car, started it. A very polite voice came from the back seat. "Mama, I would like to listen to Metallica please."
Metallica. Please. Gotta love it.