Ah, little ones!

When Ted was a toddler, we lived in a tri-level house. Like any mother, I was concerned when he insisted on walking up the stairs himself. His chubby hand on the banister, he would slowly trudge up step by step, and I would follow close behind ready to catch him should he tumble backwards. Sometimes when I wanted him to move a little faster, I would tease him by pinching his tush and saying "Cute buns! Cute buns!" This little ritual worked well, and it became our game when he learned to look back to make sure I was there.

One day after not long after he mastered the stairs, I was carrying a load of laundry up from the basement to my room for folding. As I neared the top floor, Ted, who had been following me up, suddenly reached for my derriere and squealed "Coupons! Coupons!"

That was about twelve years ago, and whenever I hear the word "coupons," I think of cute little Ted before he became a sloven teenager.