Judy Blume obviously never met my daughter.
One of my favorite scenes from “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” involves rambunctious, 2-year-old Fudge and his refusal to eat.
His exasperated father places Fudge in the shower, dumps a bowl of cereal on his head after declaring “Eat it or wear it.”
This would be more of a treat than a punishment for my daughter.
My 17-month-old is learning to feed herself, so my kitchen constantly looks like a bowl of spaghetti exploded.
Learning to use a spoon is a very complex skill when you think about it.
CeCe uses her spoon to stab at her cup of applesauce like she is actually trying to kill her dinner before she eats it.
When she decides it is sufficiently dead, she will attempt “the scoop.”
Because of her chubby T-Rex arms, 90% of the actual food falls out on the way to her mouth. The remaining 10% somehow ends up in her ear.
Our meals typically end with CeCe eating with her bare left hand, and her right holding her spoon triumphantly in the air like it’s the Olympic torch.
In case you were wondering how many places a toddler can manage to store food, the possibilities are endless. CeCe’s favorites are:
- Her hair. Yogurt and shampoo are interchangeable.
- The walls. CeCe decided to redecorate the kitchen with a lovely shade of tomato sauce. I have since learned to place the high chair in the middle of the room with newspaper under it.
- Her toes. How does a child reach her feet in a high chair? You tell me.
- Under her rear. As you pick up a toddler from a high chair, you should expect to find a squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the seat of her pants – even if she was eating pasta.
- Mommy’s neck. You will not notice this at first. Not until the food is dry and crusty and someone smells it on you.
Follow Katie on her mommy blog at mynewheartbeat.com.