Pete loves chasing feathers on a stick. Loves it. Begs for it all day long.
And when he catches the feather, he grips it in his teeth, lies down, rolls over onto his back and holds perfectly still, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. After a few seconds, he’ll sit up, take a step or two in some random direction, then the lie back down with the feather in his teeth. And he’ll keep doing this until I stop tugging on the string.