So it was bound to happen eventually. Billy is asserting his independence, giving us a glimpse of what those terrible twos are going to be like.
The latest--why should he suffer through the indignity of me shoving food in his mouth if he's perfectly capable of doing that himself?
Or not so capable. His little fingers, while impressive at picking all kinds of things up, often don't end up in his mouth. Or the food falls right out. Or he gets bored and throws food to the dogs because that is funny. Or he lets a dog lick his hand and then puts it in his mouth before I can catch it.
At any rate, he's let me know in no uncertain terms that he is done with sitting there like a little bird, letting me feed him mush. He wants a cracker, and he wants to hold it himself, thank you very much.
Here, he eats his first big breakfast--scrambled egg yolk (the whites are a baby no-no) and hashbrowns. He did well with this one. Potatoes of any kind are always a good call. (I did crave the hell out of french fries while pregnant)
People, I do try to put this stuff in his mouth. Honest. But he is Not. Having. It.
See?
Actually, he just feels the same way about peas as his mom does. (an aside--he looks JUST LIKE his Aunt Marsha in this picture. I used to cause the exact same look on her face)
Anyway, meal times, which used to be ruthlessly efficient 10-minute affairs, are now a saga of tears (his and sometimes mine), pleading, and food mashed in hair, eyes, legs, ears, everywhere.
My latest method is to spread the things he likes on the tray (no plates--who can use those anyway? Ours get hurled across the room) and while he's distracted and open-mouthed, shove a little healthy fruit and rice cereal in his mouth. That works for a couple minutes until he catches on, grabs the spoon, and throws it on the ground.
He's learning, though. We ended up snagging a spot at Oxford's most amazing day care, and they are truly, truly wonderful. He's in a class with kids a couple of months older than him, and they're showing him the ropes. He learned to drink out of a cup, fingerpaint, and eat crackers there.
My little boy is all grown up.
