Crumbly goodness

Mama seems to think I spread food all over the place just because I'm messy. But what she doesn't understand is how improved the taste of food can be just by spending a mere hour or two on the floor. That special sweetness that a Craisin obtains from resting on the carpet for a few hours, the savory sumptousness of a Goldfish cracker that has been aging for 3 days hidden under the coffee table. My Mama and Dada are all about letting their wine aerate or eating aged cheese -- don't they understand that is all I am doing? But of course, as usual, they just don't understand, they complain and use the vaccuum to suck my culinary delights away into oblivion. They don't understand that when I throw the food off of my tray, it's not ONLY because they are spending too much time talking amongst themselves instead of witnessing the brilliant wonder that is me, but it's also so that I can experience what a hot dog, or a spoonful of sweet potato, tastes like after being left to mature for a certain amount of time. Of course, Mama always has to clean the floor right away, so I never do get to explore the piquant pleasures of an aged macaroni noodle. Something about it being "unsanitary". You know, I could be the next Food Network star like Andrew Zimmern. "Bizzare Toddler Foods with Destructor". I could be -- ooh, stale pretzel. Nom nom nom.