I know he looks happy. He probably is. Behind him is me, covered in sweet potatoes and distinctly unhappy. I don't like having pureed baby food sprayed on me every time he takes a bite. I don't like wiping it up from the floor, the chair, and the wall. I have to admit, I really hate meal times. And I remind myself every time that today is one day closer to the day when he feeds himself. (Which I realize isn't going to be a clean prospect either, but at least it won't all end up on my face and arms in the form of half spit/half food spray.)
No comments:
Post a Comment