So What's Eating Rome?
For some reason, I thought Roman would take to food much quicker and with more enthusiasm than Reilly Kate did. I don't know why I thought this. I guess because he is a boy. I figured that he would grow big and strong and eat whole tomatoes like his father before him.
I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Quite to the contrary, Roman's reaction to his first bit of food was actually much worse than Reilly's first bite. She wasn't that interested, focused more on the picture of a rocking horse on her high chair than the spoon I was shoving in her mouth. She pushed the rice cereal gruel out of her mouth with her tongue, but opened her mouth up for the next bite to push out. Eventually, after weeks of this, she clammed her mouth shut to food and didn't open it again until she was almost a year old. But at least for a small period of time, she willingly allowed food to enter her system.
Last week Roman turned 5 months and I bought a box of rice cereal. I excitedly milked myself into a bowl (no, that is not a typo -- I did MILK myself -- think cow and pail but the cow has hands and no need of the farmer), mixed my milk with some of the cereal to form a soupy gruel, lined up the cameras, and spooned him his first bite of food.
Immediately, his face skewed up into a grimace as if I had just put a rotten, sour lemon into his mouth. He pushed it all out of his mouth and let out a whine. Undeterred, I tried again. Again, he pushed it out and let out a bigger whine. His facial expression had turned from a grimace into a look of pain. I got concerned that perhaps there was something wrong with it so I took a bite. No, nothing wrong with it provided you are a fan of raw human breastmilk -- which most assuredly Roman is.
I tried for a third time. This time he shrieked, grabbed the spoon with his right hand, my hair in left and yanked hard on both. I pried open the hand with my hair, worried that he might pull it out leaving me with a nice bald patch. While I was occupied with that, Roman took the opportunity to steal the full spoon away from me. Once I had my hair back, he looked right at me and flung the spoon across the room. The soupy mess went flying all over the kitchen, dining area and even into the livingroom. Again, Truman McFatty (the ever dieting dachshund) was there to lend a hand with the clean up.
I'm thinking that Roman is not so crazy about rice cereal. Next I'm gonna try bananas. Truman likes bananas, I think.
I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Quite to the contrary, Roman's reaction to his first bit of food was actually much worse than Reilly's first bite. She wasn't that interested, focused more on the picture of a rocking horse on her high chair than the spoon I was shoving in her mouth. She pushed the rice cereal gruel out of her mouth with her tongue, but opened her mouth up for the next bite to push out. Eventually, after weeks of this, she clammed her mouth shut to food and didn't open it again until she was almost a year old. But at least for a small period of time, she willingly allowed food to enter her system.
Last week Roman turned 5 months and I bought a box of rice cereal. I excitedly milked myself into a bowl (no, that is not a typo -- I did MILK myself -- think cow and pail but the cow has hands and no need of the farmer), mixed my milk with some of the cereal to form a soupy gruel, lined up the cameras, and spooned him his first bite of food.
Immediately, his face skewed up into a grimace as if I had just put a rotten, sour lemon into his mouth. He pushed it all out of his mouth and let out a whine. Undeterred, I tried again. Again, he pushed it out and let out a bigger whine. His facial expression had turned from a grimace into a look of pain. I got concerned that perhaps there was something wrong with it so I took a bite. No, nothing wrong with it provided you are a fan of raw human breastmilk -- which most assuredly Roman is.
I tried for a third time. This time he shrieked, grabbed the spoon with his right hand, my hair in left and yanked hard on both. I pried open the hand with my hair, worried that he might pull it out leaving me with a nice bald patch. While I was occupied with that, Roman took the opportunity to steal the full spoon away from me. Once I had my hair back, he looked right at me and flung the spoon across the room. The soupy mess went flying all over the kitchen, dining area and even into the livingroom. Again, Truman McFatty (the ever dieting dachshund) was there to lend a hand with the clean up.
I'm thinking that Roman is not so crazy about rice cereal. Next I'm gonna try bananas. Truman likes bananas, I think.
posted by The Histrionics of a Fat Housewife at 1:32 PM
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