For breakfast this morning you had six ounces of oatmeal and fruit puree and four squares of waffle. You had a few bites of strawberry, and then you were done eating. Anything else was swept onto the floor for the dog to finish.
I tried to get you to eat a puff, or a bite of daddy’s peanut butter and honey toast, or a few other things, but you were done. You handed the puff back to me with your cute little smile.
So I took you out of your highchair and put you down.
You crawled across the kitchen with startling speed and picked up a tiny little thing from the floor. You had nearly put it in your mouth when I got to you.
A tiny rock.
You won’t eat a half dozen foods I put on your tray, but you hardly hesitated to try to eat a rock.
I wish I could think of some clever thing to add, but I’m still at a loss for words.