Din was measuring out the dry ingredients when Grogu returned with his basket. It was small enough for him to handle but large enough to carry a dozen eggs. He reached up on his tippy toes and slid the basket onto the countertop. It contained a colorful mix of speckled white, brown, and pale blue.
"Have any trouble on the way there or back?"
Grogu shook his head. It was the first time he'd gone on his own. He'd been especially watchful for the sneaky fire rats who liked to follow at a distance. They would rush ahead at the last moment and scare the ducks. Today, they seemed to be up to no good elsewhere.
Din added water to the mixing bowl and reached for the long handled wooden spoon. "How many did you find? E'tad?"
He opened his hand, palm up, and pretended to push upward.
Again, he indicated more.
Grogu giggled. Now buir was just being silly. He turned his palm downward and bent over to his knees. The basket wouldn't fit thirty eggs.
"Ta'raysh," he eyeballed.
His son beamed, standing proud.
"Did you have yourself a snack?"
His posture deflated. He'd gotten them into trouble eating all sorts of eggs he wasn't supposed to. Was he not supposed to eat the duck eggs? Wasn't that what they were going to do? He raised a hand, all of his digits extended. He'd been so excited about going by himself, he'd forgotten to eat his breakfast.
"Good job, kid. You want to crack two into the bowl? I'm making fry cakes."
