Notes on the doings and undoings of an ancient historian, museum educator, and mom.
Thursday, April 5
I took this photo not all that long ago, and when I finally had a chance to sit down and add it to my photo archive, it struck me once more that my cute little baby is rapidly becoming a little boy. The occasional word is turning into a veritable (toddlerish) vocabulary, and he is already starting to test out a fierce streak of independence that is clearly going to be a hallmark of his burgeoning personality. (He got it honest.) So far he mostly prefers to assert his independence at mealtimes--he absolutely refuses to be fed with a spoon or fork anymore. If he is going to eat it, he's going to put it in his mouth himself. What choice does a weary mother have except to hand over the spoon and let him have at it? He still uses his hands, but he prefers to use a baby spoon or fork if possible. While his dexterity definitely leaves something to be desired, I've been rather impressed with how well he's done. As long as the spoon starts out in the right position, the bite usually makes it to his mouth successfully. However, he hasn't quite figured out how to manipulate the spoon back into the proper position if it gets turned sideways, and he's not all that good at shoveling food onto his utensil yet. Even though I can tell this problem frustrates him, it clearly irritates him more if I try to help him out. He squawks and pushes my hand away, leaving no doubt about how he feels about my help. If he had the ability to form a sentence, I'm sure this emphatic gesture would be accompanied by a "Me do it!" My only regret is that he doesn't seem to have the same motivation for independence when it comes to baths and diaper changes... Oh, well. I'll take what I can get!