Twas the night of our first feeding and all through the apartment
The kitchen was stirring and baby had not one hint
The high chair was placed at the table with care
With a vinyl plastic cloth placed under there…
Dream: I open my mouth for my first bites of food and gobble them down enthusiastically. I open wide for more. “This rice cereal is fantastic!” I exclaim with a high-pitched squeal and sparkling smile. I grab the spoon from Mommy’s hand and begin to self-feed effortlessly and efficiently. I continue on this flawless feeding path with new food that’s introduced every few days. As each food stage progresses, so does my ability to feed myself with a fork and spoon. My table manners are given the seal of approval by Miss Manners, too. Yup, this baby loves everything she eats and makes parenting a breeze at mealtime.
Reality: What’s this mushy, gushy poor excuse for food? You want me to eat that? I don’t think so.
As I close my mouth super tightly while refusing to take another bite, I vigorously shake my head from side to side saying “no!” the only way I know how to. Although a couple of bites have landed in my mouth and may have made the trip down to my tummy, most of the food is: 1) on the floor, 2) finger painted on the highchair, 3) in puppy’s tummy (puppy is always asking for food so must be hungry!), 4) on yours truly, or 5) all over Mommy. It looks as if we redecorated with splatter paint Jackson Pollock style. (I learned about him from my Touch the Art books, thank you very much.) I must say, the rice cereal adds a design element that this apartment sorely needed.
Mommy keeps smiling while trying to feed me the same disgusting bite of food. Does she really think that if the spoon choo choos like a train, flies like a plane, or if my teddy bear feeds me, it changes how nasty the food tastes? I open wide once or twice to egg her on just to see what else she can come up with. She’s not the only one who can play these games.
This is absurd. I can feed myself. So I take the spoon from Mommy and wave it in the air triumphantly. Oops. As I swing the piece of stolen cutlery I toss most of the stuff that was on it. Darn. Well there’s still some stuck in the curve of the spoon. I can totally pick it out with my nails that I don’t let Mommy clip. Touching it with my fingers is way better than eating it anyway. I can feel the textures without having to taste it. I can also swirl it all around on my high chair tray, rub it through my hair, and massage it all over my face. It’s just like getting a facial. Or so I hear.
While enjoying my facial, Mommy tries to recover the spoon and but I distract her by tossing the bowl in her direction instead. The rogue bowl hits her in the face. She grimaces and says “ouch.” It’s hilarious! I burst out laughing. It makes Mommy laugh, too. Mission accomplished.
Mommy somehow manages to get the spoon back and refills it. I try one big bite. Yum. This is great. I chew and swallow, chew and swallow. What did she do? Lace it with my Mum-Mums? Banana, Mommy says. Banana makes the cereal better. Mommy gives me a piece of banana without cereal, too. It tastes even better without the cereal! This eating thing isn’t so bad after all.
I wonder if everything else that Mommy and Daddy eat tastes as good as bananas. I cannot wait to find out. And between us, I hear that NYC has some fine dining so I plan to try every star chef’s bananas. Watch out NYC restaurant scene…here I come!
