These days, the highlight of their dinner experience is buttering their own bread. We lend them our dull knives, which they've learned to ask for by name (I need my dool knife, mama.), and they go to town. I think last night a slab of the stuff ended up hitting Dulce right in the eye. They haven't quite mastered directional slicing.
Unfortunately for me, their learning leaves my butter a victim that I try to save each morning when I butter our toasts. Sometimes I can manage it, others, well, who needs beautiful butter anyway?
The real heartbreak of this story is that once the bread is buttered, the twins have no interest in actually eating it.
Oh well. At least they're not trying to eat the butter straight from the stick anymore. That was a fun phase.
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