Feeding a baby is a messy, smelly, fluid-filled adventure all its own. Axel has moved from the isle of breast milk to the land of semi-solids - pasty rice cereal, and, in the past two and a half weeks, yams, carrots, and mushed ripe bananas. I'm starting to wonder about the child's tastebuds. He adores the bland glueyness of rice cereal, but seems to suspect that the other three foods he's tried are thinly veiled attempts to poison him. Here's mealtime with Axel, in pictures:
"Hmmmm, what's that? That's....interesting." The first bite of yams triggers a few investigative lip smacks. The second bit oozes out over his lip.
After the third bite, he gives me his coldest baby drop-dead glare, wondering how someone who claims to love him could ever try to put something so foul into his mouth, then spits a mouthful of yam in my direction. Hey, kid, I've seen you put a clump of dog hair in your mouth followed by a slurp on your big toe - your palate is not that discerning.
By bite four or five of yams or carrots (see above), his cautious exploration turns to rage. "Carrots? I loathe carrots. I have no use for root vegetables of any kind. Who cooked this crap anyway?" I cooked it - and all that effort wrapping up the yam with foil, leaving it in the oven for an hour, and mashing up the part of it I didn't eat myself was unappreciated.
Then, we move on to the rice cereal, which gets a better response....
Axel then insists on extensive rice cereal exploration by hand.
Then, as quickly as it started, it's all over. Axel is done eating, and being in the highchair becomes intolerable. He thrashes about and bites at the high chair straps like an angry badger trapped in a cage. Jabbing himself in the cheek with the wrong end of the spoon occupies him just long enough for me to put the dishes in the sink and wipe my hands of gunk. Sometime - when the weather's warmer and I'm feeling like we both need some excitement - I'll dab bits of various brightly colored foods, like avocado and carrots and beets, on his high chair and just let him mash the stuff all over himself and his chair and me so that we become a swirl of bright edible color, before hosing us all off in the shower.
We're about to take this eating show on the road - on Thursday, we're flying east to meet up with my in-laws in Cape Cod for four days of a cold, early season seaside vacation. I'm in frenzied packing mode, trying to figure out how to cram everything we could possibly need in case of various emegencies (say, bandaids and neosporin in case of attack by rabid hamsters on the plane, or three large packs of wipes in case Axel develops the pooping habits of triplets) in a bag that won't get hit by the heavyweight bag fee. Early next week, I'll let you know how well we survive the likely misadventures that come with babies and travel (airplane nursing, nap disruptions) and, of course, if any unlikely calamities involving pet rodents let loose on a plane occur.
