Charlie has taken it upon himself to point out, hold, put away, carry anything that he recognizes as something Daddy eats. No really. In a very obsessive way. It's like the Daddy food is the pinnacle of warm, snuggly, amazing wonderfulness. (Sometime I'll tell you how the Daddy bread saved us from a catastrophe in BJs one time.)
We went to Whole Foods and bought several jars of PB, and when we got home before I even knew what had happened, Charlie swiped them out of the bag and sat on the couch carefully guarding them with
Taggie close at hand. He is the guardian of all things Daddy.
He takes his job very seriously.
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