Tough to swallow.

Part First:

My son, Sol, eats without regard for such pedestrian notions as time or space. Left to his own devices (ie. his hands - utensils be damned) he will attempt to fit every morsel of food on his plate into his, granted, cavernous mouth. Carrot stick - in it goes - no need for biting it into more manageable pieces; there's plenty of room. Heck, we're just getting started - there are some nice bits of beef we gotta get to. Time's a wastin'. So, while the carrot is still rolling around in there, making nice geometric shapes appear and disappear on his cheeks, in goes the beef. There may be a bit of a delay at this point while he reaches in and breaks the carrot in half to more effectively facilitate the introduction of more meat. Maybe a nice piece of broccoli (thoughtfully, slightly cooked to soften it, making it easier to....dissolve?) goes in next. Last of all, to fill in the gaps, some rice or mashed potato. Of course, by this stage, chewing is far out of the question, so he proceeds to sort of work his jaw back and forth, periodically reaching up to poke a rogue piece of carrot or beef back into his mouth that is attempting to make a leap down into the waiting jaws of an increasingly chubby dog.

All of this would bother me a lot less if I thought he was really enjoying his food, but I really don't think he is. Carrots, meat, broccoli, amazing baked salmon; it makes no difference - jam it in. By the rice/potato stage, his face usually carries a look of genuine concern. I mean, chewing isn't even a viable option, let alone swallowing, and there's all that food left to eat....

Part Second:

I was very busy last week, between work (an 8:00am to 5:30pm deal - new for me) and some commitments that I had in the evenings, I was not home very much during the hours that my children are usually awake. I was, however, home to help put the kids down to bed on one particular, revealing evening:

I was putting the younger two, Ineke (2yrs) and the aforementioned Sol (1Yr) to bed. The standard routine is story, prayers, and a song (or two, or three or...). So I ask Ineke if she would like to hear a song. I don't know why I ask, because the answer is always the same, as is the song she requests (Apple Red Happiness, or 'Appleness' as she has named it). But tonight, she said....

"No."

"No song?" I asked.

"No" she replied, turning in her bed to face the wall.

"Why no song?" I asked, fully expecting her to realize the grievous error she had made.

" 'Cause you go out the house - leave us all alone.” she answered. “No song. You go out my room now."


Swallow that carrot stick.