We tried Max out on a new food last night -- spaghetti. It was blended up, but not pureed, the idea being that Max will ease into the whole chewing thing by getting gradually chunkier foods. It is a good theory. I read about how to smooth this transition in several books, and they are all agreed that this is the way to go. Max does not concur. He did, at great personal cost to both me and himself, eat most of his meal, but he wore a great deal of it, gagged a couple of times, and -- well, I think this face really says it all. Ian was actually a bit worried about posting this picture, fearful that we would be mistaken for a family of spaghetti-eating zombies. I see his point. However, sometimes a picture captures a moment so succinctly that it must be shared.
This morning was a new day, and the breakfast of blended (but not pureed) blueberries proved a much more popular dining choice. He still ended up smearing it everywhere (he tends to put his hands up while eating new textures, in a warding off gesture, and this allows food from both the spoon and his face to get on his hands, and to travel to every corner of the universe from there), but he was at least pleased while smearing. Someday he will be a teenager, and I will long for the days when it was hard to get him to eat. Right now, that is difficult to imagine.
We tried Max out on a new food last night -- spaghetti. It was blended up, but not pureed, the idea being that Max will ease into the whole chewing thing by getting gradually chunkier foods. It is a good theory. I read about how to smooth this transition in several books, and they are all agreed that this is the way to go. Max does not concur. He did, at great personal cost to both me and himself, eat most of his meal, but he wore a great deal of it, gagged a couple of times, and -- well, I think this face really says it all. Ian was actually a bit worried about posting this picture, fearful that we would be mistaken for a family of spaghetti-eating zombies. I see his point. However, sometimes a picture captures a moment so succinctly that it must be shared.
This morning was a new day, and the breakfast of blended (but not pureed) blueberries proved a much more popular dining choice. He still ended up smearing it everywhere (he tends to put his hands up while eating new textures, in a warding off gesture, and this allows food from both the spoon and his face to get on his hands, and to travel to every corner of the universe from there), but he was at least pleased while smearing. Someday he will be a teenager, and I will long for the days when it was hard to get him to eat. Right now, that is difficult to imagine.
5 comments:
Please tell me that Ian photo-shopped the eyes in the "spaghetti rejejection" photo. That is freaky! He certainly did not get that expression from our side of the family. Oh wait...I am recalling a certain young girl whose aversion to eggs resulted in a similar expression.
I am afraid that the expression has not been doctored in any way. I am simply documenting for posterity, I am not rewriting (or rephotographing) history.
For the record, these days Chelsa photoshops these pictures herself now.
That Spaghetti-Zombie picture is the best. I literally laughed out loud (I refuse to use LOL). Wait ... I just did. Dang it.
I, too, am resistant to computer lingo. Mike is trying to stuff the knowledge into me (see "why do we buy him toys?" comments for the exciting play-by-play), but i am determined that he will find it slow going.
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