Somewhere Iris Amster-Burton is Crying
While my parents were here last weekend, they were all eating lunch. Dad was finishing off pasta with meatballs. Eli pointed at the meatballs. “Those are meatballs,” my dad told him.
Late that evening, I was cleaning out my dresser drawer. I found three or four plastic balls from the APS that light up when you throw them. They’ve got two LEDs inside them, plus a bit of moderately clever circuitry. They’d been gathering dust for a number of years.
I couldn’t throw them away, especially since they’d just bounce back. Instead I gave them to Eli.
“MEATBALLS!” he shrieked in delight.
I’m going to delay my plans to have him cook for us.
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