Baby D continues to become a gourmand.
Today she eagerly gobbled up some carrot, apple and parsnip puree. What she didn't put in her mouth ended up on the floor and kitchen table.
As well as all over me, on the back of her head, on her nose, mouth, chin, shoulders, all over both hands and fingers, behind her ears and even on her feet. Yes, she has taken to stuffing her toes in her mouth when she's in a particularly good mood. I have no idea what this means.
At any rate, trying to excavate the bits of goo that lodged themselves in between her chin(s) and under her canopy of cheeks is the closest I've come to an archaeological expedition. I didn't discover any ancient artifacts, but there were patches of leftover dried milk and bits of banana goo from her last meal.
I knew that feeding would be messy, but I didn't expect it to be this bad (I guess when I imagined my baby eating wholesome treats, me on hands and knees cleaning up the mess wasn't part of the fantasy). I'm even using one of those industrial-type rubber bibs that has a food-catcher bit at the bottom. Diana hates this bib with a passion; probably because she thinks it's limiting her creative juices, aka mess-making abilities. That, or her chins are too pudgy to fit underneath.
I don't know why I bother, to be honest. The food catcher has yet to catch anything (maybe it's for sturdier fare than purees) and all of the mess that ends up on the bib ultimately covers Diana since she bounces her arms and feet against the bib and grabs the spoon away. I may start feeding her topless (her, not me).
The other mess created by the introduction of solid foods is of the even less pleasant variety: the kind found in Diana's nappies. Let's put it this way: I'm dreaming of the days of breastmilk-only poo (even when it was exploding through Diana's clothes).
I'm actually a bit worried because of the disproportionate amount of time I spend dealing with poo these days. Between picking up after Bolshy on his walks (whilst carrying Diana in the Bjorn – not a pleasant experience for anyone involved) and changing Diana between two and four times a day, I am having a more intimate relationship with poo than with most of my friends at the moment.
Messes aside, I am really happy I started weaning her before six months (and thrilled that my laissez-faire parenting approach happens to be in line with new research). It's made me realise that while it's important to read the relevant guidelines and listen to professionals, it's ultimately up to your own baby to let you know what's right for them.
That is, of course, until the baby starts mouthing the words "Big Mac."
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