Contrari-wise

Ki-woon loves to be fed. Loves, loves, loves it! Well, loves what he wants to eat. Not so enamoured of the peas and carrots we had with lunch yesterday. Today, though, he’s a-trembling with glee at the approach of the bowl full of melon chunks that is this morning’s snack. His chubby arms outstretched, his legs kicking against the footrest of the high chair. “Bring them on, Mary!!” If he weren’t strapped down, he’d surely vibrate right out of the high chair.

The first bowl vanishes, whoosh. Did he even chew? Don’t think so.

The second bowl is greeted with equal enthusiasm. Vanishes with equal dispatch. The third bowl approaches, the boy revs up yet again – arms, legs fluttering, child quivering in anticipation. It’s a shame the way we starve the boy. Third bowl is placed on the tray of the chair amid screeches of enthusiasm that rend the air. And the eardrums.

But wait. Seems that these melon chunks are defective. Either that or Ki-woon’s evil twin has suddenly possessed his body.

A grandiose swoop of two dimpled hands. “NO! No, no, NOOO!” Melons? How could you, Mary?? The bowl bounces across the room. Melon chunks scatter over the dining room floor. Think maybe he’s done now? It’s subtle, I know, but I am a professional, well able to pick up on a child’s indirect cues.

Mary instructs as she washes his hands and face. “If you’re done, say so. Food stays ON the tray. ON the tray.” Boy is set down to play while Mary tackles the high chair with the damp cloth. (Yes, the same cloth. I cleaned the boy with it first. Hush yourselves.)

High chair efficiently swabbed, I turn to get the broom and dustpan for the melon debris and trip over Ki-woon, who is half under the dining room table. Three guesses as to what he’s doing down there…

Babies. Contrary little critters.

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© 2006, Mary P