Bigpaw -- Peti? sightings -- in these parts in the vicinity of the dining area last night (above) and then again this morning (below)
Got a cold -- blame it on all the sneezing and coughing of our fellow travelers during those subway rides to and from Boston the last couple of days trying to solve the card-reader conundrum -- so we're having fresh oranges together with our usual breakfast OJ, plus extra aspirins together with our customary one a day to fend off heart attacks and such. Yes. We believe in miracle preventive potions as much as the next one. Especially old wives' -- and our own mother's -- admonitions to eat our fruits and vegetables. She used to make it fun, though, never bothering to mention beta carotene's ability to "mop up" free radicals, but instead advising us that Peter Rabbit wanted us to eat those carrots.
Going for the gold, Baby zeros in on the bacon.
Baby inspects a breakfast plate of glistening scrambled eggs, broiled English muffins with butter, honey and cinnamon, crisp -- not crispy ('hate that Madison-Avenue construct) -- home-fried bacon and freshly peeled orange wedges. As you can imagine, the Babe went right past the oranges, muffins and even the eggs and straight for the bacon.