My oldest son was about two and a half years old, and I was trying to watch the Stanley Cup playoffs, and I did not want a distraction. So I sat in my recliner eating salt and vinegar potato chips as I was also supposed to be watching Charlie.
He played with his toys as I watched the TV. Regularly, he would toddle to my perch, and I would give him a couple chips or let him grab some from the bag I held on my lap to keep him at bay. It was a divine match. We both got what we wanted; he could play, and I could watch hockey. Cool beans.
After an hour or so of this, Charlie, again, lumbered to my recliner for more chips. And I gave him more. Only this time I turned to look at him. And his lips were white. White as sheets, white as ghosts. And it occurred to me that the vinegar was causing that.
So I let him have two more chips and I put the bag away, hoping his mother would not notice the change in his facial anatomy. But I think he likes, or did like, salt and vinegar chips himself. I wonder if he still might.