On Sunday morning Paul emptied our ice chest from the party on Saturday night. He carried it out to the backyard and dumped all the ice into a pile on the grass. Tom was fascinated by this ice pile, wondering, out loud, every 30 seconds if it was going to melt yet. Of course it was a cloudy cool day, so the ice wasn't going to melt anytime fast.
Eventually I told Tom he could put his shoes on and go outside and play with the ice. First thing he does is jump up an down on the big pile of ice. That wasn't satisfactory enough. The next thing he does is squat on top of the pile, pick up a piece of ice and eat it! Yes, after he'd just stepped on it. Apparently it wasn't good enough to go back for seconds. During the next hour he took pieces of ice and one by one placed them onto the patio and with a big stomp, crushed them under his foot. Then he started catapulting them up into the air to watch them crash down onto the ground and be smashed into smithereens. Who knew ice could be so fun?