Full of Smiles

It’s sometime past 11pm. I’m brushing my teeth. The littlest bro’s watching me, munching on a Cruskit. Yep, one last Cruskit before he has to hit the sack.

He finally announces he’s had his fill with a theatrical cry—“Nooooo!”—and the handing over of the half-eaten crispbread.

“Are you full?” I ask.

“I full.”

I tell him it’s time to go to bed and lead him to his room. At first he’s OK with this development.

Then he stops.
He blinks those big eyes up at me and, bursting with the infectious hope of a two-year-old, says: “Chocolate?”