food.
Thursday, March 4, 2010 at 03:27PM 
Yesterday I told Jim that Azh is simply not happy with our daily routine anymore. That I didn't know how to entertain her. That I'm boring the poor child to high levels of discontent. He thought I was crazy. But I knew that something needed to be done. She has been fussy and non-napping for the past two days. And last night she woke up at 4:00 instead of 6:17.
But today I realized the source of that supposed disgust.
Food.
Anticipating a busy evening, we were making dinner around noon. I strapped the babe on my chest facing outward, and together we browned italian sausage, boiled ziti, and made marinara (okay, so we technically just opened a jar and doctored it up a bit). I dipped my finger into the red sauce and snuck a taste into her mouth. Her lips smacked and I gave her another. Without further thought, I arranged my makings in a 9x13, topped with cheese, called it good, and sat down to eat my simpler lunch of zitis splashed with olive oil, pepper and parmesan.
She was parked on the carpet belly down by this time, but the toys held no charm. Oh no, her neck craned up to watch her mama intently. And suddenly I knew the look. Not boredom. Not disdain. It was the same look I give people who eat chocolate cake when I'm self-denying. She wanted food. She wanted flavor.
I could blame this on the Jim "whopper" (candy, NOT hamburger) incident of a few weeks back. Or on the bit of tikka masala I slipped to her on the sly last Sunday. Either way, the girl is ready.
It was time to try again. Our first solid attempt happened after her 4 month appointment. The doctor said rice cereal could be started, so the next day we tried. And she pushed out every morsel in utter disdain. But after those sweet and savory extremes that have followed her first bland cereal bites, I knew that the rice cereal would never do the job today.
So I pulled out the fruit of my fall canning labors and pureed some peaches. With a bit of rice cereal and formula for bulk.
Bite number one: Her tongue twirled around the spoon, but her eyes grew steadily larger as the flavor actually hit the buds. Half of the bite dribbled down her chin, but I scooped it in (a skill that is definitely on my resume) and sat back to watch her reaction.
A deep chuckle erupted.
Then an all-out giggle.
Pure elation.
I couldn't shovel the food in quickly enough.
But this was the face she wore each time we paused for breath:
The girl likes food.
And then she yawned. Drunk on peaches. I placed her in her crib. She looked up with drowsy "thank you" eyes, then closed them into sleep. All disdain dismissed.
Reader Comments (14)
It sounds like you have a foodie on your hands...
"Drunk on peaches" will live on in my memory.