March 19, 2012

Squash, anyone?


I passed another important milestone this past weekend. Boy, am I getting tired of writing that. I mean, when you’re a baby, virtually everything you do is a milestone in one way or another. Last week, for the first time, I started crying because my dad sneezed too loudly. Doesn’t mean I need to alert the media.

Sorry, I think I’m losing the thread of this post. And for the record, I do think that this latest milestone is a big one. On Sunday, for the first time in my life, I ate actual food. Not breast milk, not formula, not rice cereal, but real food. Or, at least, as real as you can call this:


What is this delightful looking treat, you may ask? Why, it’s squash, of course.


Technically, I’ve been old enough for this type of food for a couple of weeks now, but Mom and Dad hadn’t yet gotten around to feeding it to me. I wanted to assume that the delay was due to the fact that they were searching for a really delicious flavor to feed me for this maiden voyage. But I got stuck with squash, so there goes that theory.

Mom, in her infinite wisdom, decided I shouldn’t be forced to eat any of it unless Dad tried it first. So he had a tiny spoonful, choked it down, and told me (with a straight face) that it was delicious. I believed him, although I’m not quite sure why. This was the same Dad who dropped an iPad on my head on Friday. He doesn’t exactly engender trust. [Editor’s note: The alleged iPad only allegedly dropped from an alleged few inches, and it only allegedly hit her with a glancing blow. She stopped allegedly crying within a matter of seconds. Please don’t call CPS.]

Honestly? It wasn’t awful. And considering the food I'd grown accustomed to, it was just a thrill to eat something that had a flavor that couldn't be described simply as "white." I powered through about an ounce or so; or, at least, that’s how much made its way down to my belly. The rest I let ooze out all over my face and bib, which Mom and Dad thought was hilarious. We’ll see if they still think it’s hilarious at the dinner table when I’m 12.

Ready for battle.

 Yes, of course she did the 'Here comes the airplane' bit. It didn't help.

 Wait, what is this supposed to taste like?

How dare you?! 

Alright, it's not too bad. More, please.

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