Cereal Murderer


You can’t blame me for being somewhat preoccupied with Baxter’s eating habits. It wasn’t long ago that our days and nights were consumed with finger feedings. Now that seems ancient history, and formula is more common as demand increases.
More to the point, early food ‘fussiness’ is a Bond attribute. My one nephew is a vegetarian and has been, by choice, since birth. I recall one dinner, where he explained to me as I was about to bite into my steak, that cows are happy. Not this one, I replied. My other nephew is food sensitive. His diet is incredibly limited, and he was the only one to send his food back at our wedding (I told the chef not to get fancy with that grilled cheese).

I believe I held the torch for my generation of Bonds. Although hiding, burying and stowing questionable edibles was a constant, my piece de resistance was the gag. If I didn’t want bland potatoes, I would merely place them in my mouth, lightly masticate, place more in my mouth and just never swallow. Sooner or later, a gag would ensue and my father would take my plate and yell, “That’s it!”

No dessert? Fine by me. I never much fancied sweets.

As a child touring through Europe with my family, I would eat only fondue and white fish. No red meats, no fried foods, no burgers, no hot dogs. No. No. No. You get the picture—fussy.

I’ve expressed my concerns about this genetic quirk to my friends. Rod, father of two manly teens, dismissed me so quickly I had to ask why. He said Baxter had the ‘hunger’ in him—’or Grabby Hands.’ Upon reflection, over the last month, Baxter has watched us eat and you could swear he was thinking, “Why aren’t you sharing?”

I’m happy to report that so far, Rod is correct. Now cereal and pabulum are not the most challenging foods. There is a fire in his eyes and his hands want only to help speed the process of getting that goop into his mouth. More! Again!

I can’t explain how thrilling these small moments are, but to eat, not drink, for the first time, ever—it’s awesome. Yesterday, I also discovered the wonderful side effect (or shall I say ‘rear effect’) of this benchmark. Three steps forward, one ‘stool’ back, I suppose.

Baby Baxter gets cereal happy



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