He tries to look closely at a large rounded butter cookie just as he takes a bite of it.  He is wondering why its coloration is darker on the inside than on its face.  Could taking a bite into it instantly change the color inside?  He is five, and assumes at the moment that his age prohibits him from seeing up close something that he is also biting into.  So, he splits open the cookie.  He sees that a cookie is all crumbs, and that these crumbs are clearly joined with some kind of special glue for small crumbly things.  But, he wants to know, if the crumbs are glued, why are they not sticking to his finger when he touches them?  He looks away.  His father is reading answers in a newspaper to much more serious questions, and no one else in the market's cafe is looking at him either. You know what, he reveals to himself, if I drop this cookie, it will become crumbs, and these crumbs will stick to my shoes.  This makes him look back at the split open cookie and say openly to it, Things are different if you have living skin like my hand or if you have dead skin like my shoe.  I'll tell you why later.  This allows him, this time around, to take a bite into, and then eat, the cookie.