So the other day, Pete and I were busy doing something or the other, me upstairs, him outside, and Anju was napping. Nik was playing by himself downstairs.
I heard the stool getting pushed around, so I decided to make my way downstairs. Just in case. And saw this:
Nik standing on the stool by the counter where I keep the set of knives. A nectarine in his hand. A knife in his other hand, sawing away at the nectarine.
I slowly approached him and nonchalantly asked what he was doing (AAAARGH!).
Nik: “I cutting, mom!”
I have to find somewhere else to put those darn knives.
Some place high.