Why You Should Never Joke About Baby Food

We decided that this was going to be the week that we broke down and added pureed meat to Max's diet. I have been avoiding this step on account of the deep, soul-shredding grossness of meat baby food, but Max has been expressing an interest in heartier meal options, and so there you have it. There is a surprisingly large variety, and some of it sounds quite gourmet. Chicken and pears, turkey with plum sauce, there are any number of choices. Among them, Ian found a jar labeled "Carne Asada", beef with tomato sauce. He found this amusing, and got some for Max to try. It smelled like spaghetti-o's with meatballs, which is never a good sign. It also had textural issues, which I will not describe in detail (you're welcome). Max was hungry enough that he did eat the entire jar, but he was not making his usual noises of eating enjoyment. Afterwards, even Max's granny, who likes him so much that she volunteers to change poopy diapers, had to admit that he has smelled better.
After we got home, the real ramifications of the carne asada were felt by all of us. Poor Max fell asleep easily enough, but kept awakening with a piteous cry, letting out a loud burp or toot, falling back asleep, only to awaken with more and smellier gas later. It went on for about two hours, off and on. Ian felt terrible, and went out and got Max all his favorites for today's meals. Apparently, food that sounds funny does not necessarily digest well.