Monday, November 17, 2008

A million little washcloths

Get out your Shop-Vacs, your Hazmat suits, your chisels — the toddler has discovered cutlery and wants to feed himself. Will accept no help. Will in fact strenuously reject help. We are reduced to sitting quietly by, keeping one hand as subtly as possible on his breakable pottery bowl — this being the month we wisely chose to rid the house of plastic dishware, bless our earnest green souls — washcloths at the ready, while he shovels food into his pie-hole.

His expertise is — literally — hit or miss, mostly a function of the food’s solidity. Yesterday, he daintily polished off an entire piece of French toast, handling his fork with dexterity that would rival the Queen’s. This morning’s oatmeal? Not so much.


  1. Look at him eating at the table!

    I'm trying not to see a correlation between his eating ability and the 5 shirts I realized today I am going to have to throw out due to foodstains. Where did you buy his bibs? I might need to get some.

  2. Love it. LOVE IT! And dare I say his breakfast-table manners are superior to mine.

  3. Wow. that is so cool! J hasn't figured out how to get food on his utensils yet, but I know the day is coming where he's going to reject assistance and I'm going to need to take out stock in Zout.