06 March 2012
You have been eating solids for a few weeks now - you are nearly six months old and already you have found your likes and dislikes. Just like me you love sweet potatoes and just like me you are not so sure about mashed potatoes.
You start wiggling your feet and thrashing about in your chair when we open the freezer doors and see what's left of the homemade purees I make for you. I even puree minced beef for you. It smells. Bad.
Your first ever food was parsnip, followed by sweet potato, and then potatoes. You love apple, and you love apricot. You also love to chew on teething rusks, even though you have no teeth to speak of. Frankly, you love eating, like your parents. You are not even that messy. You just open your little mouth like a bird and we have to shovel it in, if we're not fast enough you start crying.
I weaned you and sometimes you still bat away at my top, looking up at me sadly. At least that's what I think. I don't really think you're upset about the lack of boob in your life. Considering the last time I breastfed you you impatiently chomped down like a calf and nearly dragged my boob off to never never land.
I worry about your length.
I will not allow you to be a supermodel when you're older, you might as well stop growing. You are beautiful, inquisitive, and you have a top notch sense of humour. You really love slapping your naked belly.