Reagan has never wasted food before. She always eats anything and everything and she eats it GONE. Yesterday that changed.
So I was washing out bottles and little baby spoons and in general more pastel plasticware than any household should contain, when I heard a soft plop. Then another. Plop.
I glanced over at my cherub, strapped into her high chair just feet away. She smiled her cherub smile and waved her hands around, a sure sign of her happiness in life. Ah, bliss. Here I was, content in my motherhood, loved by the perfect baby, partnered with the perfect husband and all that rot. Then plop.
This time I caught her. My little princess was gleefully tossing her lovely green peas over the side of her high chair tray. She picked them up carefully with her dainty fingers and then sent them soaring to their deaths not unlike crazy people in barrels going over the side of Niagara Falls. She leaned over the side of her chair in order to watch their fall from a better angle. And then she laughed wildly.
It was the laughing that got to me, I think. I said, "No, Reagan. Don't waste your peas. Eat them, Baby Girl." That caught her attention. She stared at me intently, ashamed of her waste and the mess it made. She ate two peas with an expression of true repentance on her little face. There. Point made. I went back to scrubbing.
Plop.
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1 comment:
Lisa, dear, you write so well. I must confess I rarely follow blogs beyond the initial "Isn't that interesting/nice/weird" phase. So far, I've been checking yours a regularity that is a close cousin to the regularity of flossing in my life. (That is actually a compliment since I had braces. When floss actually fits between your teeth, it brings a strange joy to smoothly slither the stuff in and out of beautifully straight... Never mind.)
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