It is entirely possible – as I have experienced on the “receiving end” on numerous occasions – that baby stories are delightful only to the immediate family, and a bore to everyone else. If this is generally, in fact, the case, please let me know, and I will burden you with them no more.
For now, I shall take the risk, as I pass along this snippet of – for me – deliciousness, destined for enshrinement in the “Pomerantz Memory Bank”, and to be re-told to the now grown up baby’s irritation, for decades to come.
Baby Milo (thirteen months, and still wordless, except, inexplicably, for the word “apple”) is buckled tightly into his high chair, feeding himself from an array of shredded chicken morsels, arrayed on the tray table in front of him.
Watching from the sidelines, “Pappy Earl”, eager to connect, reaches over, corrals a bite-sized chicken piecelet, stretches his arm toward Milo’s mouthlet, Milo opens his mouthlet, and I slip the food in.
A Classic Tableau – “Grandpa Feeding The Kid.”
After a couple of rounds of me hand-feeding Baby Milo, Baby Milo reaches over to his tray table, picks up a morsel of chicken with his sample-sized fingers, stretches his arm in my direction, I open my mouth, and he slips the food in. From then on, we take alternating turns – one for him, one for me; one for him, one for me.
Offering an even Classicker Tableau – “Grandpa And Baby Feeding Each Other.”
The very next morning, Cheerios (actually the infant substitute Puffs) now the comestible of choice, Baby Milo modifies the “one for me, one for you” feeding pattern of the day before, inserting a startlingly unexpected wrinkle into the proceedings.
And with that, I will stop talking, and offer an on-the-spot video, shot on her cellphone by Mama Rachel.
I hope you like it.