The Spoon/Tub Correlation

This week, Babykins acquired her own collection of bowls, spoons, and forks.  They're plastic, brightly colored, and directly responsible for an increase in our water bill.

The first time I put a bowl of yogurt on Babykins tray and handed her a spoon, she immediately dipped it into the bowl, brought it to her mouth, and sucked off the yogurt!  Granted, it was the handle end of the spoon she was sucking on, but I was still very proud of her coordination.

The only down-side is that the more often Babykins feeds herself, the more often she ends up in the bath tub.  We're currently at 2 baths a day, one after breakfast and one after dinner.  In an effort to not turn her into a wrinkly prune, I've stopped feeding her anything even slightly messy at lunch. 

Tonight she had pureed mangos, Cheerios, an apple slice, and string cheese for dinner.  By the end of the meal, her face, tummy, arms, and legs were all covered with mangos, Cheerios were stuck to her chest, and apple pieces lined her leg.  As we carried her straight from her high chair to the tub, pieces of cheese fell from her body, leaving a trail of dinner down the hallway.

It's an exciting new phase of of Babykin's development, and one that the water company is thrilled we've reached.  Next week's activity: inventing the full-body bib.

Apologies to Mommies of Messy Faces

I remember a time, in my younger and more foolish years, when I would see women out and about with small children who had messy faces and think, "Come on.  How hard can it be to wash a kid's face?  Make an effort."  I know better, now.

I recently found myself at the mall staring at Babykins, trying to figure out how she got a purple bruise on her forehead.  As I leaned closer to inspect it, I realized that it was actually purple baby food, left over from what was apparently an unsuccessful attempt to wash her face after lunch.  And yesterday, as we sang in playgroup, I realized belatedly that Babykins had stored part of her breakfast banana on her chin.  I swear I had taken a cloth to her face after breakfast, but wiping up a squirming, fussy baby as she shakes her head and waves her hands is a task on par with bathing a cat.

So as I find myself recently in the ranks of women with messy-faced babies, allow me to extend this apology.  I know now that what looks to others like a messy face is the victory badge of squirmy babies everywhere.