Monday 10 January 2011


The King is eating solid food now. Well, not exactly solid, but he’s progressed from the purely liquid form to something that is a few steps above. It’s scary how fast all this happens and suddenly you find yourself neck deep in purees and mashed mush that resemble things from which one usually wants to run. If the object can be morphed into some soft gloopy mess, the King is not only going to taste it, but as sure as I’m sitting here, he’s going to swat the spoon and send it flying into my face or all over him. It’s amazing what little reaction one has to this after becoming a mother. In fact, I actually go places with food stuck to my arm. I figure it's like a badge or I'm desperate to start some new fashion trend. 

"Oh my god, I love your cashmere crusted oatmeal cardigan!" "Thanks, isn't it fabulous?!"

The challenging part of the whole eating process is…well, all of it really. First you have to reach the King's mouth, which is not an easy feat. As I said, at the moment his arms are moving like a malfunctioning windmill. They flap, punch (inadvertently of course), slap, poke, and jut out at an alarming rate. The goal of course is to get through this flapping armed minefield and reach his little gaping mouth, that of course shuts as soon as you get there. He then finds this very funny as you try your best to convince him that mushed yellow gunk is better than sliced bread. He knows already that sliced bread is far more appealing.

Once you actually get the food inside his mouth, there is the challenge of keeping it in there. At first it is a game of Mom putting it in, and King spitting it out. This happens in a variety of delightful ways. There is the blowing bubble spit method – by far my least favorite as it goes everywhere; the projectile method – also not pretty, and the simple 'I’m just not even going to attempt to chew or swallow and this stuff is coming right back out all over the front of me.’ 

Thankfully in a relatively short amount of time the King has taken to eating like a fish to water. No surprise there really as his father loves food, and the King from a very early age thought that the act of eating looked incredibly intriguing.  In fact, now if I’m eating anything he wants it, he wants the spoon, the bowl, the plate; hell, he’ll take the bag it came in if he can lick any food off of it. And while he’s eating he makes these hysterical noises that I can only gather mean, ‘more, please more, and hurry up about it.’  

The major downside of all of this is of course what now comes OUT of the King. Yes I'm referring to the back end of him. I won’t go into detail of course to spare you the visual. But in short, if has peas for lunch, well I’m in for one green explosion somewhere down the line. 

Ah yes, the joys of motherhood. 
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