Max has mostly graduated away from the jars of baby food, and has embraced finger foods of various kinds. This is more convenient in many ways, and it is pleasant not to always know the answer to the question "I wonder what that would look like pureed?". It is also messier, however, and there is no way not to make that an understatement. It is also more challenging to get Max to eat balanced meals, since he feels completely free to throw whatever he doesn't like on the floor or down his pants. I was pleased today, therefore, when Max accepted and then devoured several trees of broccoli at my grandparents' house. Some of them were bigger than his head (which is in itself of considerable size), but he gnawed away at them like a professional.
Why broccoli, which is smelly, strong-tasting, and a weird texture is considered food of the gods, while other more palatable foods suffer the humiliation of floor-hurling, is a mystery for the ages. Not only did Max like the broccoli, however, he buried his face in it like a lion eating a gazelle. There were broccoli flowers in between all four of his teeth, up his nose, and all over his chin like a leafy green beard. I'm going to rub broccoli all over him on Halloween, and he can be that little friend of the Jolly Green Giant's, Sprout. I have been looking for a novel costume idea.