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Give That Kid a Chicken Leg!
What is it with food and the baby?
I also know that feeding small creatures is fun. I have always loved petting zoos because not only does one get to pet the animals, one also can purchase fistfuls of what I can only describe as "farm animal kibble" to feed them. On one particularly memorable occasion, a little goat made an additional snack out of some mouthfuls of my hair when my head was goat-level and prone because I was tying my shoe. (I still love goats and their fabulous eyes with the rectangular pupils and when I have hair to spare, which, with any luck, will be when Felix is of petting zoo age, they're welcome to try to catch me.)
But at the same time as this tender feeding impulse is known to me, and one I share, I am more than a little overwhelmed by the concern people have for Felix and his diet.
While he was in utero, I heard from several people, including relatives who will remain nameless, that my son was suffering because I wasn't getting big enough and because I was drinking caffeinated coffee. I've mentioned my kid's ample birth weight before on these pages, so let me say that if his size was at all stunted by my regular java infusions, and penchant for strawberry popsicles, I'm glad of it.
Now that he's a few months old and down to two chins, there are some who claim see an aura of desperation about him.
Since he is a sociable sort, Felix is happy to sit on my knee at meals. Some would take this as evidence of his deprivation.
"Look at the way he watches your fork. He can't wait to eat real food." My mother likes to find meaning in Felix's glances. I regularly point out that he also has that ravenous gleam in his eye when he studies light fixtures and the dog, but she always bounces back with a handy rejoinder: "But he's drooling!"
It doesn't end with relatives. Recently, while I tried to buy a hat, Felix began growling, with a mind to exploding. A woman turned to me.
Woman: He's hungry. You better get him home."
Me: I think it's mostly the weather. It's a bit early for him to be hungry.
Woman: Are you breastfeeding?
Me: ...
Woman: Because if you're breastfeeding, there's no telling WHEN HE COULD GET HUNGRY. I know! I breastfed all my kids and they were NEVER ON A SCHEDULE.
Me: He's not hungry yet. I know he's-
Woman: Look at him! He's starving!
Me: HE JUST ATE! He's bored.
Now, I'm a sport. But people want to know best. Babies cry for oodles of reasons, some of which are identifiable, but all I hear about is food. No one even wants to suggest that he's tired or hot, just hungry or craving a broader menu.
I suspect that, though I've offered them plenty of chances to administer bottles, my son's relatives can't wait to feed him the hard stuff (mashed to a pulp). As for the comments of strangers, I don't know what to say or why I feel obliged to argue.
When Felix was born, I had to fight to get all the visitors to stop feeding the dog. Soon enough, Felix will be susceptible to well intentioned gastronomic interference; but I'm in charge of my little zoo, which is doing just fine without help or advice or corrections.
One wonders if one could obtain one of those signs that used to crop up in parks and wildlife centers.
"Do not feed or annoy the animals."
posted by Elise at 9:32 AM
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said...
I cried laughing reading this. I don't know what it is with strangers, but m'gosh they are rude. [and] Your mother about the fork and him being hungry?...Your comeback was priceless, but I personally would've stabbed mine with the tines (ever so gently, mind you).
Keep up the great work! You are funny!
9/14/2005 7:07 PM
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