Dinner with a Baby

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This evening my wife put the finishing touches on our new dining room table.  There are some things I have a proven track record of being just wretched at and that includes any sanding and painting work.  Anything people will see, I do not get to participate in.  I do not hold this against her.  I am really, really bad at painting and smoothing out rough edges.  Those are basically the editing process of the real world, and let’s face it, I am not two gud with eddittng. 

As she worked, I had dinner with the boys.  It was very nice.  The firstborn devoured a plate of lasagna and droned on about how the new table could be a Wild Kratt creature ship or something of the sort.  I would like to say I was listening.  I would really like to say that.  We had had the conversation a thousand times throughout the day though.  Zoning out of one of them was key my sanity.  Firstborn, if for some reason you ever read this, just know that I could not tell the difference between the blue guy and the green guy and we watched that cheetah race episode dozens dozens of times the first week you were into the show.  I needed a Wild Kratt free dinner.

The firstborn ate really well though, I did check on that between the “uh huhs” and “oh, reallys” to feign participation in the conversation.

The baby seemed very interested in his brother’s words.  And he talked and talked through dinner as well.  It was like a high-pitched voice surround sound system.

The baby is really into feeding himself now.  He does not have spoons or forks figured out, but he is quite insistent on shoveling food into mouth without the assistance of an adult.  And that is exactly what he does, he shovels food into his mouth.  I thought he would really enjoy some baked spaghetti so I cut some into small pieces and put it down on his tray before him.

Then I watched in horror as the spaghetti was attacked like wolves on a felled moose.

Noodles flew, burger chunks were ripped apart, zucchini morsels were smashed against the tray to get a little softer and sauce covered his face like he had just won a county fair pie eating contest.  He screeched and squawked and yammered at his brother as fistfuls of noodles   The whole thing was primal and he was so gleeful to be eating in such a manner.

Dinner was over within five minutes of serving him.  It was quite a sight.

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