Staff photo Alexis Bigelow
These faces can soften the hardest of hearts.

I plucked another kernel-sized crumb from the floor and dusted the smaller ones into a tiny pile with my other hand.

I know my kids well enough. The crumbs were not for them to follow.

I sighed as the trail continued under the table legs toward the living room.

On my hands and elbows, I slowly backed out, careful to cover enough distance to clear the edge of the table and not drop the crumbs.

I sat up when I knew I was clear and banged my head on the table anyway.

I stared at the crumbs as they trailed into the distance.

How many times had I been down here? How often should a man see the underside of his table?

It feels unnatural every time, looking at that unfinished wood, the exposed screws, the manufacturing marks — the sheer indecency of it all.

I pushed myself to my feet and tossed my current handful of crumbs into the trash, only to begin another.

The kids do it on purpose. I know they do. Why else do they feel the constant need to eat like a wood chipper?

Goldfish crackers. Chicken nuggets. Strawberries. The damned Jell-O! All of it crushed and ground and mashed, pieces crashing to the floor while others are spewed from their mouths as their seemingly unhinged lower jaws slam repeatedly into the upper one, over and over, with the consistency and decibels of rocks in a blender.

I shuddered as I picked a few more crumbs from the floor.

My own little Hansel and Gretel weren’t anywhere in sight, yet the crumbs kept falling.

The trail even seemed to cross itself in areas I knew I had already cleaned.

Was this my life now — forever fated to follow in this wake of fallen food?

Sure, there was a glimmer of hope, that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. They’d grow older and learn to eat peacefully, but then — I glanced at the younger two wobbling in the playpen — others were already waiting to fill the void that would be left by their older siblings and keep me eternally chasing.

They both smiled at me with the cutest, drooliest grins, nearly identical in every way — except for the number of teeth.

Yeah, they’re cute, I thought, but I see those teeth — all six of them combined — barely poking through the gums. I know what they’re capable of.

I kept my eyes on them as I wound my way around the playpen, their smiles unabating. To my dismay, I found my frustration softening. They’re just too damn cute.

Then I noticed: there were no more crumbs. The crumbs ended, but the trail hadn’t. It had only changed shape.

Nearby lay a sock. Beyond it, a shoe. A pattern repeated. Another sock. Another shoe. They pointed straight to Atlas’s room.

I picked them up, tossed the crumbs and leaned in his doorway. He was playing video games, oblivious to my presence.

Clothes and toys were scattered everywhere. I started to clean up his laundry.

That’s when it hit me: this trail was meant for us, my wife and me. And it would never end.

The crumbs become clothes. The clothes become bats and balls and bikes.

For now, the trail is easy to follow.

We hand them the food to crunch, the clothes to shed, the bikes to ride — they’re never too far away.

But someday, those handlebar streamers will turn to tailpipe smoke as they try to put distance between us.

That’s all they want, really — a little distance. But that’s why they keep leaving the trail: so we can catch up when they finally slow down.

Right now, though, they have all the energy. We may be tired from work and crumb-chasing, but they’re on the move. And they know it.

So they lay the trail to tell us, “We’re sorry we can’t slow down right now, Mom and Dad. We’re going places. But we know you’ll catch up. Eventually.”

I smiled at him, tossed his clothes back on the floor and walked out.

I can always pick them up later.

Anyway, here’s a reader-submitted recipe for something that doesn’t leave many crumbs — unless you eat croutons: a quick, refreshing salad.

INGREDIENTS:

FOR THE SALAD:

2 heads of romaine lettuce

1 bunch of fresh dill

1 bunch of fresh mint

4 ounces feta cheese

Several green onions

FOR THE DRESSING:

1 large lemon

â…” cup olive oil

Spices (can be oregano, Italian blend — anything herb-y)

OPTIONAL:

Cheese tortellini or penne pasta

1 cup quinoa

DIRECTIONS:

Chop up romaine lettuce and wash. Put in a medium or large bowl.

Rinse off dill and mint, pat dry and then chop. Add to romaine lettuce.

Dice up green onions and add to the bowl.

Add feta cheese.

Give everything a good mix.

Next, in a measuring up, pour â…” cup olive oil.

Then, squeeze the juice from 1 large lemon.

Add spices (about a teaspoon, give or take).

Give a good stir.

Adding optional ingredients:

Cook cheese tortellini or penne according to the directions on the box. After cooled, add to salad.

Add quinoa, cooked according to directions.

Add dressing.