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.”
There’s more.
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.”
There’s more.
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.
1 comment:
OK that would be too cute for broadcast outside the family, but Milo pulls it back by inserting some selfishness into the proceedings, so it's sweet and funny.
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