After expressing disappointment that dinner is not plain noonoos or rice through vomiting sounds and a brief collapse on the floor.
Notice that two bigger brothers, mother, father and grandmother all have proper knives – proper steak knives with black handles and sharp blades.
Very sharp blades.
Demand similar knife.
Have meltdown when not allowed said cutting implement due to how sharp they are.
(Ed: shut up, there was negotiation. I’m desperate to get this kid to eat OK.)
Puts knife in mouth.
Gives three adults at table simultaneous heart attacks.
Have meltdown due to surprise from three adults sucking all oxygen from the room and sort-of-yelling at me.
Give appearance of listening dutifully to mother as she explains all calm-like about how those little grooves are very sharp and would cut me very easily and that being cut with a knife is very owie.
Hear something about mother not wanting to spend another night at hospital with an injured child.
Also something about how me getting hurt would make parents very sad.
Eat some more air and leave table.
The following afternoon:
Notice that mother is busy preparing dinner.
See one of those knives from dinner last night on the kitchen bench.
Procur knife in stealth like motion that successfully avoids detection by mother.
Jam knife into apple I’ve been pretending to eat (because Grover had it and therefore I had to have it, even though I don’t want it/like it) and see raft of potential uses for this device.
Try cutting apple into pieces while standing up and holding it in one hand and the knife in another.
WELL BUST MY BOILERS THAT HURTS
WAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA