Sharp Kid

David was on his way home, Bea was napping, Graham was entertaining himself on the kitchen floor, Inga was on my hip, and Yo-Yo Ma was playing Bach as I prepared the fish and cous cous for tonight's supper. It was very calm, very quiet. Too quiet. Graham suddenly stood up and raced around the kitchen as fast as he could. He stopped, spun around, and said, "Mommy, that's much better."
"What's much better?"
"I can run much better with sharp socks."
I stopped tending to the fish and turned around.
"What do you mean, 'sharp socks'?"
"I sharpened my socks!" This, proudly said as he held up the cheese grater.