Luvin' Spoonful

Almondjoy — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 12:49:00 GMT

Dearest Babbletrash,

It's me, Josie. My dad has another one of his "funny, morning headaches" so he's asked me to fill in -- again. This morning's topic: things I no longer need anyone's f***ing help with, thank you very much. Let's start with drinking. (Why not? My dad does.) And let's forget all about the Sippy Cup. What a loathesome, condescending invention. No, these days, when I want to get my drink on, it's all about the cup.

Here's what I'm talking about:

The reason the photos blurry is because I'm getting my chug on. I've just downed fifteen ounces of buttermilk. And here's what happens next...

I shake my cup around and burp at max volume until my mamma gets very sleepy and compliant and then I demand MORE BUTTERMILK.

There's also the whole eating situation. News flash: I am no longer being spoon fed. That time is over. Any food transport happens at my initiation. Like so:

First, the spoon goes down and in...

Then it goes slowly up around for a minute or so, until I've actually got Cheerios on the spoon...

Then in goes in my piehole ...

Hey, who forgot to put sugar on my Cheerios!

I swear, do I have to do everything around here?

Yes, apparently, I do.

Baby Daddy : buttermilk

Luvin' Spoonful