No pictures today, but a quick story. The Wog loves to chew on ice pieces. They're pretty much the only thing that will keep her occupied for long periods of time in restaurants, and The Wog's father has mastered chipping the ice into small, non-choke hazard pieces. We have a good bit of snow on the ground here, and lots of ice. The other day we got into the car after Squeaky Sneakers ("Kweeky Neekers! Kweeky Neekers!") and The Wog had some ice on her Vans. I noticed she was scraping the ice off and eating it. When I asked her what the ice tasted like, she responded, "Feet!"