I was getting dressed when it suddenly got very quiet out in the living room. Soren had been contentedly babbling a moment ago and now it was silent. I'm sure you can imagine me, rushing half-panted down the hall, hoping nothing horrible had happened. At our last visit, my pediatrician filled my mind with horror stories of infant death; now gruesome scenes were flipping through my mind like a slide show on speed. Or like the scary tunnel in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". Expecting a disaster, I was relieved when this was what I saw in the living room: The night before, I'd left a slice of left-over cake on the arm chair. We'd had company and Soren had been in bed. When I'd forgotten it at the end of the evening, it had been far from my son's greedy grasp. But this morning, when it was still left behind, it was within easy baby reach and too unusual for him not to explore. No wonder he was so quiet! He'd been experimenting with an unk
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