I am not sure why The Boss decides she is done eating, mid-bite. I am staring at tight lips that keep those last morsels hidden between teeth and tongue. I am waiting it out. I am getting antsy because she cannot be put down for a nap with a gluey mound of mastication hanging out in her maw. I am telling her to chew, or spit, or do something. I am seeing the stubborn set of her father's jaw in her face. I am thinking about the day before yesterday, when two hours elapsed, but a spoonful of peas and carrots remained. I am watching the line of her lips, which sometimes creases into a v of pink baby flesh, but never parts. I am finally squeezing her cheeks. I am covered in dinner vegetable broken down by saliva into a runny cream of corn. I am sopping it off her body and mine. I am holding her hysterical head. I am singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm. I am moo-ing and cluck-ing and wondering why she must horde food like that. I am asking myself what she's waiting for.
Today's post is brought to you courtesy of the "I am" meme as sent my way by Slouching Mom.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
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5 comments:
I think Old McDonald had a farm should have its lyrics changed to encourage the learning of vowels. Instead of, "E, I, E, I, O", why not, "A, E, I, O, U?"
I'm just saying.
Love this! And I particularly appreciate the focus on some twenty minutes as opposed to a lifetime.
Much more interesting than the drivel I came up with.
Blech.
That you have to squeeze her cheeks...my, those toddlers are stubborn.
she eats vegetables? how do you make that happen?
I am (in awe?)
Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-Swallow.
lauren,
"E-I-E-I-Swallow" has too many syllables. Cut it back to "E-I-E-Swa-llow" and I think you've got a winner!
Why do I even post these comments?
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