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The Mad King's Dinner
Alex is biting. Food mostly, but I wouldn't stick your finger in his mouth. This started about two weeks ago, in the hallway between our bedrooms where I crouched down with the canister of Pringles. If you rattle a can of Pringles Alex comes running like a cat. He jammed his right arm down canister and emerged with a Pringle (Nacho-flavored, orange as a life vest). I expected him to start cramming the chip into his mouth, letting it disintegrate against his lips, letting the fragments flutter down and letting whatever made it to his mouth make it to his mouth.
But instead he brought the Pringle up, placed one edge between his teeth, and bit.
 This is progress, but progress is slow. He still only weighs 20 pounds, so in lieu of pounds we're hoping for daily progress chewing. He's since carried the biting thing to other foods, such as Cheerios, Oat Bran Squares, Tato Skins, pretzel sticks, and bacon. We're not trying to get Alex ready for dorm life early. It's just that he inspects, carefully pinches, winces at and heaves from the high chair every other food. Feeding him is like feeding a mad king who's scared of poisoning.
Oh my god! Oh my god! Scrape off my tongue!
Cheerios, Oat Bran Squares, Tato Skins, pretzel sticks, and bacon. Recently I hit upon the brainstorm of mimicking a real meal when I feed him. Nibble. Nibble. Nibble. Drink.
Juice? What kind of juice? No.
I place one pretzel stick, one Tato Skin, and one strip of bacon on the tray of the high chair. I let him select what to eat in what order. I put my hand over his to control the depth of his bite, and when he's finished chomping all three I offer him a bottle. He still drinks from a bottle, through a big nipple into which we slashed an X with a paring knife. We've tried other beverages, in methods of delivery from sippy cup to shot glass.
That's not a straw! It's a serpent from H...! Serpent from H...! Serpent from H...!
Oat Bran Squares don't really belong on the list yet, as they've only been in field use for a week and have suffered almost a 50% casualty rate, bouncing across the floor tiles for later pick-up by the bottom of an adult bare foot or, when swept up, to bounce back out of the dust pan. Life cereal recently failed a similar test spectacularly. Tato Skins were introduced because my vending machine at work happens to have them this week.
New? Overboard!
You must sneak in new stuff after priming Alex with pretzels or Cheerios. Even the Cheerios have gone sailing if used too soon lately. (I was surprised to learn about the entertainment empire that's been built about two-year-olds eating Cheerios. In a Manhattan Barnes & Noble I saw shelves of puzzles, books and games. But where's the book and board game about mom and dad picking about a hundred Cheerios off the kitchen floor?) Cheerios I use chiefly for breakfast, or as filler between strips of bacon, the way steak houses use baskets of bread.
Sigh.
 What's he got to sigh about? He gets to eat bacon every day. Crisp bacon: 2:20 in the microwave, on high. Any less and Alex might not chew it, but sort of gum it around into a wad destined for any feet that miss the Cheerios. Or the bacon might head to the floor, where dad races mom for possession. Since we've been feeding Alex whatever he cares to pick up, my diet has come to include, well, let's see, Cheerios, Oat Bran Squares, Tato Skins, pretzel sticks, and bacon. Also Stouffer's macaroni and cheese, an almost nightly yellow mound of hope that Alex still disdains.
No! No bib! And put on a white shirt.
The feeding therapist told us to "just put food on the tray and give him a spoon, and see what happens." Anybody who's ever been in a Spencer Gifts and seen that poster of the baby with the bowl of spaghetti on his head knows what happens. But Alex is dexterous with the spoon when we use Gerber Sweet Potatoes, which he once adored, and chocolate pudding. He will bash the bottom of the bowl with the spoon, then slowly bring it up between his lips. He seems to understand that the spoon has something to do with his future. He also understands that pudding makes a fine hair conditioner.
A dish? Of food? Let me see it. There!
I beat Jill to what hits the floor. Scrumptious. I've gained nine pounds.
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