I buy the expensive tube of tiny apples.
“Eloise, would you like a tiny apple?”
“No thank you, Mommy!”
(The next day)
“Apple? Mommy? Please, apple? Open it?”
“Sure! Let me wash one of these tiny apples for you.”
She pulls a chair up to the counter. I hand her a mini apple and keep making dinner. The cylinder is out of reach. She giggles delightedly and bites into her baby-sized apple.
Approximately .067 seconds later, Eloise has disappeared and left a wake of one-bite apples and an empty cylinder on its side. Because, two year olds.