This is a memo for my chefs. Milk lady. Milk man. Nana. Anyone that wants to make me food.
I’m almost 8 months old now. I’m not a baby.
I just want to be like you.
I want to eat big people food, because, let’s face it, I’m almost a big person myself. I can sit on my own, I can put food in my mouth, mostly, and I watch you and want what you have.
I love veggies – mashed not pureed, just like you.
I love meat – cut into little tiny pieces because I have a little tiny mouth, even if I do try and stuff lots in there at times.
I love cheese – grated because I don’t have teeth to chomp it yet.
I love toast – but please, don’t try to trick me with plain toast, I want peanut butter like you milk lady.
When we go out for dinner, I know what you’re up to, you feed me before we go and then try to make me sit in the high chair just chewing on a rusk….like a baby. Nope, Sorry! I want to try your garlic prawns, and your salt and pepper calamari (maybe with the batter stuff off) and that chicken parmigana looks soooooo good you just have to share it with me. I know you will only let me eat foods that aren’t too salty or too spicy, but I want to try new things, new tastes, new textures, and things I can play with and try to feed myself.
All this talk of food, I think it’s time for a nap while milk lady makes me some lunch….mmmm…veggies would be nice I think.