The boy was standing a few feet away from me. I was holding one of his stuffed animals, and he wanted it. He stretched his arms out and started making his "gimmie that" noise. Being the good father that I am, I tossed it to him. Unfortunately, at the same time, he started to walk towards me. The physics of it didn't really work out as planned, and the bear hit him square in the face. It didn't bother him, in fact, he laughed about it.

"You're going to have to work on those reflexes, boy," I said.

Fast forward to dinnertime. He was in his high chair, I was trying to sneak a spoonful of applesauce in between some spoonfulls of oatmeal. Visually, it's not that different, I didn't think he'd notice until it was already in his mouth. Within a fraction of a second of the spoon entering his line of sight, he determined that it wasn't something he wanted, swatted at the spoon with his nearest hand, turned his head, and covered his mouth with his other hand.

"Never mind. I guess your reflexes are working just fine."