I got a fever, and the only prescription is more spatula

There is something about spatulas that Jordan finds so intriguing. This is a kid who loves him a spatula.

They've always been one of his favorite things to play with. He used to pronounce it "shashla." He'd reach up in the air, "Want shasla!" Or he'd just say, "SHAAASHHLAAAA!"

But his language skills have advanced and he has learned how to say please, which he says probably 50 percent of the time.

So now he heads into the kitchen every day with his request. "Have spatula please."

One of us hands him one. Sometimes he'll reject the one you give him, and you have to pull them out one by one until one of them is deemed acceptable.

(Also, lest you think we own a freakish number of spatulas, let me explain. Any large plastic or wooden spoon, stirrer, whatever is considered a spatula.)

So he'll finally accept one. And then sometimes he'll just feel like one is not enough. So he'll say, "Another one spatula please."

It's polite but very matter of fact. This is a necessary object I'm asking for here. It's kind of like on those hospital shows where the doctor is all, "Forceps. Suction."

Somehow life is more complete with a spatula in hand.

So over the weekend we had friends over with their daughter, Kirthi. I was in the kitchen getting water.

Jordan came marching in and said, "Spatula, please."

"OK. Here you go."

He held out his other and and said, "Another one spatula. For Kirthi."

He clearly likes her.