Mason is a proto-vegetarian, as Daughter Dearest was a proto-feminist. He doesn’t like the taste of the beef (or turkey) baby food (the facial contortions are amazing), and DD did what the boys did because that’s who she had to play with.
Earlier this week, Mrs. Fetched asked me to make up some cereal for Mason’s breakfast. This is a pretty easy deal: get the mixed grains baby food out, make a little thin mush, stir in some applesauce, shovel it into the baby. No problemo. So about the fourth spoon, Mason took it and AH-CHOO! — I got a shower. Not the first instance of baby goop on me, not by decades, and probably not the last. I had a wet rag intended to wipe his face and hands afterward, so I cleaned up and kept feeding.
Mrs. Fetched, when she heard about it, was amused. “That also happened to Snippet,” she said. “It hasn’t happened to me, because I watch and I know the difference between him opening his mouth for a bite and getting ready to sneeze.”
Pride goeth before a fall, so they say. Last night, Mrs. Fetched was shoveling butternut squash into Mason. That’s his second favorite food, #1 being sweet potatoes. So he got a big bite and… AH-CHOO! — it was Mrs. Fetched’s turn to get the baby food shower! Everyone else at the table was quite amused.
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