Hubbas aren't for everyone…yet

Years ago Jenn babysat for a family in Colby, Kan., who used the word "hubba" to describe a pacifier. When Kagen was born we all latched on to hubba as being worlds superior to binky or paccy. I can't even spell paccy. Anyway, no offense to those of you who use those other words but we Farrar Wellmans are hubba people. However, Reagan isn't even remotely interested in hubbas. I brought three in varying colors and styles and she hates all of them. I pop it in her mouth and she pops it out and looks at me like…"What's the point, Mom?" I think she's so focused on food (more on this in a moment) that hubbas are just a waste of good sucking skills. Why suck plastic when you can suck plastic that squirts formula or apple juice into your mouth? I had high hopes for the hubba's power over my child. I dreamed of her satisfaction and contentment with hubba in mouth. I haven't given up yet but for now we've called a truce.

Reagan is not used to lots of food and we see that in every mealtime. She throws herself at the bottle and snorts and snorts and sucks it down like if she stops for air, it will disappear. The whole time she eats her eyes flick around at us as if to say, "Go ahead. Just try to take my food. You'll pull back a bloody stump that's what." We've decided it's best not to test her on this threat. We pull the bottle out and encourage her to breathe, once again going over human dependence on oxygen and then we let her go to town again. She also loves Cheerios, rice crispies, rice (both steamed and fried) as well as watermelon, cantaloupe and bits of croissant. She hasn't any teeth yet so I make the pieces super small but she loves to daintily pick them up and gum them down into a nasty mush before consuming them.

At dinner last night, it hit me. We're those people. We've crossed the line. Our baby sat in the restaurant's high chair and threw all sorts of food items over the edge on to the floor. She reached for things on the table. It's become habit to sit down and start identifying and moving possible weapons further away from her reaching hands. I can hold an adult conversation while mashing up melon, scooping flung socks off the floor and cooing baby talk out of the corner of my mouth. I personally don't have time to eat as much anymore but that's not really a bad thing. When we left, there was destruction everywhere. We're those people.