The other night we were sitting at the dinner table. I was feeding Ryan bits of mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. Ryan was bouncing around in his high chair acting as though we were finally feeding him after a week-long starvation diet. (His preferred method of asking for more, if he can reach me, is to give me a good whack. We’re trying to encourage him to find other ways.) Nathan was trying to feed Ryan as well, because what’s more interesting than feeding a baby? I was monitoring Nathan’s feeding choices: “I think that carrot’s too big, sweetie.” There may have been adult conversation sprinkled in there; I forget.
But at some point I glanced down at the floor under the high chair and was surprised to find considerably fewer bits of food there than I had expected.
“I think Ryan might be swallowing things,” I told Dave.
Sure enough, careful observation allowed us to determine that food was going into the baby mouth and not coming back out.
I’ve yet to find a food that he truly doesn’t like. Nathan was the same way at this age. But so far the biggest response we’ve seen from him was when we pulled out some of the savory croissants that we made and froze way back when. This little one is an eater after my own heart — the buttery, flaky pastry was so exciting to him that he started complaining loudly if I was too slow getting him another tidbit. He would have been just as happy to grab the whole thing, but I drew the line there. He’s my child and I love him, but I’m not just handing over a whole homemade croissant, thank you.