CONNOR: Age 2-3
This is an account that I was not present for, but is very descriptive of our young feral boy, nonetheless. As you will see from this story, our nickname of Connor is quite appropriate (*for those reading that don’t know, a feral is an untamed, wild beast that follows its own agenda and is not easily dissuaded from its primal instincts).
One night at the America house, the family had sat down to a nice pizza dinner at the kitchen table. Connor was 2 or 3 at the time and comfortably eating out of his high chair adjacent to the table (it may or may not have been the first time he had partaken of deep dish cuisine, but it was the first time he revealed his undying devotion to it).
As the pizza began to dwindle and everyone was enjoying their second or third slice, Connor felt threatened by the loss of this beautiful cuzine, so he pulled the entire box onto his chair’s table top. If anyone dared reach for a slice, he protected his prize with a fierce growl as he gnashed his teeth at the enemy. You think I’m joking? Maybe exaggerating? Not so. There are many witnesses of the threatened animal snarls that erupted from the tiny boy’s throat…scouts honor!
