When you were first born, everything you did was cute. When you’d cry, we’d laugh at how adorable it was. When you’d poop, we’d nearly fight over whose turn it was to change the diaper; both of us adamantly claiming it was our turn to change you. Nearly everything you do is still completely adorable, but a few things have changed.
At your last checkup the doctor said it would be okay to try and feed you some solid food, if you showed interest. Your mom asked how much to feed you, but the doctor said not to worry about that, since you probably wouldn’t each much, if anything at all.
So that night we mushed up some bananas, scooped them up on a spoon, and attempted to feed you. As soon as you saw the spoon heading in your general direction, you lunged forward, mouth open, shifting your weight towards the spoon, desperately trying to gets its contents in your mouth.
I’ve seen parents having to play games to get their kids to eat, but with you, when’s food’s involved, you’re all business.
When we’ve asked other parents about the amount we should feed you, they say, “Just feed him until he’s not hungry anymore.” We’ve tried to reach that point, but so far you’ve failed to reach a place where you feel adequately full. You’ve literally eaten until you’ve thrown up, and then seconds later, started lunging and grabbing for the spoon once again. At this point, we’re more likely to feed you until we run out of food.
Feeding you is absolutely adorable. You get excited, but at the same time you have such a serious look on your face. You even grabbed your mom’s arm this weekend and pulled her hand towards your mouth, lunging at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had in her hand. Your appetite is definitely changing.
A few days after you started eating solids, while holding you in my arms, I heard the unmistakable sound of a diaper filling. I retreated to your changing table and was shocked to find that something completely unholy had replaced your tiny-little boob-milk poos. I looked at you, horrified, and said, “Oh my god, that’s terrible,” as I began to gag. You looked back, looking concerned for a moment, then smiled and began to giggle.
Several minutes and 20-something baby wipes later, you were as good as new. I used to think when parents said, “You owe me, I used to change your diapers,” that they were saying, “You owe me, because I changed your diapers when you couldn’t do it for yourself.” But now I realize what they truly mean, which is, “You owe me, because I used to change your diapers after you filled them with the most foul-smelling baby-poops on Earth!”
PS- You owe me!