A Mommy Story

I used to think Cordy was quite the eater. I had no idea that my second daughter would be the real foodie. She can’t get enough of it, and spends most of the day wanting only to eat, eat, eat.

I’d call her our little food critic, but that title doesn’t exactly fit. Her report so far:

Breastmilk: Tasty, although quickly becoming passé

Oatmeal: Yum! Mixed with some of that milk is best.

Sweet potatoes: Yum! And the orange stains left behind when I spit up give mommy a headache.

Carrots: Yum! Tastes great, and is another great orange color for staining my clothes.

Apples: Yum! Great to eat cold when teething pain strikes. More, please!

Squash: Yum! Like sweet potatoes, only not quite as orange. Not as much stain power as the other veggies, but still delicious.

Bananas: Yum! What’s next?

See? If she was a critic, everyone would want her at their restaurants, and every dish would get a glowing review.

And she’s not content with the selection provided so far. She also eyes anything I eat, trying to swipe a bite and occasionally propelling herself forward on my lap to get her gums around my sandwich.

Sometimes I’m a little bothered that she’s no longer as interested in breastmilk, like it’s so three months and she’s nearly six months now. Of course, less nursing means fewer attempts at a nipplectomy from her teeth, so I guess there are upsides.

And she certainly doesn’t appear to be a starving baby.