Soren's first cookie.

My Uncle Dewey had a tragic event occur earlier this week: his remote control died. This was something that simply could not be tolerated, as Dewey's day centers around his visit from the girl who brings him his Meals on Wheels-- and whatever's showing on Turner Classic Movies. He showed up on my doorstep Monday looking forlorn and lost. "I know something better's on a hundred channels away, but it's too hard to get up and find out what it is," he told me. So on the way home from work yesterday, I stopped at Wal-Mart to find him a replacement.

Soren and I walked across the street to Dewey's house to set up the new remote, where we discovered there were no batteries to make it run. I told Dewey we would get some from home and return shortly, but Dewey, who recently held Soren for the first time, declared that "Bill" (he can't remember Soren's real name) was "too fat" for me to carry across the street and back. He said, "I'll hold him while you're gone." Soren and I visit frequently, and Soren feels fairly comfortable with this loud, bearded, smelly old man, and I decided it would be all right to leave him there for a minute. I plopped him on Dewey's lap, kissed him multiple times, promised I'd be back soon. I ran home and when I returned was relieved to find Soren happily reclining on Dewey's lap.

"Oh good," I said. "He's looking quite content."

"Bill likes cookies," Dewey replied.

I laughed.

Then I got nervous.

And, upon further inspection, I discovered that, surely enough, Soren was gnawing on a pink sugar wafer.

The cookie was taken away, Soren cried, and Dewey was chastised for irresponsible behavior.

"The cookie felt good on his gums," Dewey countered.

I couldn't really say much about that. He would know: he doesn't have teeth either.

I think Soren won't be spending much more alone time with his Great Uncle.